


Irresistible

by shallowbanana



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 54,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallowbanana/pseuds/shallowbanana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1950s film noir/pulp fiction AU- Piper Chapman has gone missing. Her best friend hires down on her luck private investigator Alex Vause to find her. Of course, the case turns out to be more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble is My Business

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- This is based off a prompt from ToTheBarricades (neighborhoodspaceman): Alex is a 50's private investigator who is hired to search for Piper, who has gone missing. I love film noir and old 40s and 50s stories (novels by Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett, all that stuff) so this is sort of my homage to that stuff with Vauseman mixed in because of course it all comes back to Vauseman. Fawning praise (and constructive criticism) is always welcome in the comments... seriously please let me know what you think. (Repost of the same thing on ff.net under the username imissedyourpatronage)

**Chapter 1** \- Trouble is My Business

Nicky always said that a beautiful woman was going to be the death of me.  I always thought she was full of shit... Because how can a woman be the death of you if you never spend more than three nights with any of them?  But then I met Piper Chapman and everything I thought I knew blew up in my fucking face.

***

I'm waking up.  I'm being dragged forcefully back into consciousness and I can't figure out why the fuck it's happening.  It could be the headache that's starting to pound in my temple, the emerging hangover reminding me that the tenth scotch and soda may have been one too many. It could be the fucking too bright California sun streaming in through the shitty threadbare curtains hanging forlornly over the window of my tiny bedroom in my tiny apartment. It could be the fact that the fucking girl that I collapsed on top of last night after a vigorous, if sloppy, drunken fuck is still draped over me, snoring like a god damn freight train...

But it's probably because someone just smacked the back of my aching head hard and yelled, "Rise and shine, Vause!"

I grimaced, recognizing the raspy, cigarette stained voice of my (supposed) best friend and forced one eye open to find the face of Nicky Nichols about six inches away from mine, a sardonic grin on her lips, her wild mane of hair trailing over my pillow. I started, scrambling upwards in shock, "... the _fuck_ Nichols!  I fucking told you I hate it when you do that... Jesus!"

She barked a laugh, standing up straight as I groped on my bedside table for my glasses. "Didn't want you to mistake me for Lana Turner or some shit. I know you're fucking blind as a bat without those things."

I sat up, ignoring the fact that I wasn't wearing any clothes (nothing Nichols hadn't seen before) and put my head in my hands with a groan, "If you were Lana Turner I don't think I'd mind.  Now gimme a fucking cigarette and tell me why the fuck you're here," I muttered.

Eyes still lit with amusement, she pulled out her pack of cigarettes, lit two and handed me one.  Then she gestured to the girl, who was still sawing logs, and said, "Get sleeping beauty outta here then we'll talk..."

*** 

The girl (Betty?  Bessie?  Becky?) was all too eager to get out, which didn't surprise me. Once I started to recall what had happened the night before, I remembered that I had picked her up at Red's. Some socialite debutante who wanted to see what sinning felt like and woke up in the morning feeling like she needed to cleanse her soul. She'd been a fucking blonde blur as she'd hastily dressed and dashed out the door, throwing nervous glances at Nicky who had, of course, been leering at her the entire time.

As soon as the blonde was gone, I threw on a pair of pants and an undershirt and trailed out to the kitchen where I pulled out the percolator, made coffee and drank two full cups before I finally looked up at Nicky, "All right," I rasped, "What?"

Nicky ground out her cigarette in battered ashtray, "Much as I always enjoy seeing your pillowy tits first thing in the morning, I'm here on business. Red sent me."

I ran a hand over my face, rolled my eyes skyward and groaned, "fuuuucccck."

Nicky was sitting at my kitchen table in her designer skirt and top, sprawled out like a slob, big brown eyes full of a little bit of amusement, a little bit of sympathy and a lot of serious.  "You're nearly a month overdue, Vause.  Anyone else, she woulda sent Vasily..."

I shuddered at the thought.  Visits from Vasily were pretty fucking low on my wish list.  "Fuck," I said again, shaking my head.

"Honestly, I thought you knew better than to get in deep with Red... Betting on the ponies never seemed like your game anyway..."

"It's not, but fucking Boo said it was a sure thing..."

"Mighta been if she hadn't come up lame in the last hundred yards..."

I put my coffee mug down with slightly more force than was absolutely necessary, "That fucking God damned horse!  If I'd known how much that bitch was gonna cost me I would've turned her into glue myself..."

Nicky shrugged, "Well you already punched Boo in the face for the bad tip. What else you want?"

I looked up at her, trying to keep the pleading out of my voice, "Business sucks, Nick..."

She sighed, "Business always fucking sucks, Vause. You're barely making the rent much less enough to pay Red back..."

I shook my head, "What can I say, the adulterous wives of LA are all taking a break this month..."

"Not exactly dignified work, Vause," Nicky threw over a sly smirk, "Especially when half the time you fuck them yourself..."

I grinned, "I like a good challenge."

"You and your challenges are gonna get you killed someday.  Red oughta just wait for some disgruntled husband to beat the shit outta you and get you fucking tossed in prison for leading their wife into temptation."

"I like to think of it as delivering them from evil."

"Your deliverance is illegal, in case you don't recall..." she looked at her watch, "It's 8:17am on June 10, 1954 and as far as I know the great state of California still thinks you fucking a woman is a jailable offense."

"Fuck the great state of California..." I muttered, feeling that old anger creeping up on me.

"And I thought I was bad," Nicky shook her head, "Why do you even do this PI shit?  You could come work for Red and make more than enough to pay the rent...."

"Because I promised my ma I would be on the level," I said, looking at her seriously. "You know that."

"You're committing a crime by existing,"  Nicky said, letting a hint of bitterness creep into her otherwise perpetually amused tone.  "Collecting for Red ain't gonna change that... and it's probably more socially acceptable to some..."

"I promised," I repeated stubbornly.

"And you think following bored housewives around is somehow gonna make her proud..."

"It's legal work."

"You just don't wanna disappoint your _daddy_..."

I gave her a hard look. She put her hands up in surrender, "All right, all right. You wanna be a marginally employed private dick I ain't gonna stop ya."

I wrinkled my nose,  "Jesus Nichols.  Don't call me a dick.  That's disgusting."

"Yeah sorry. Didn't mean to be so insulting."

I sighed again, trying to put the full force of my sincerity into my eyes, "Look, gimme another week. I'll find a way."

Nicky sighed, "I figured you'd say that. Red says one more week. That's it. Then..." Nicky trailed off shrugging, "She said something about Russians and baseball, but I didn't really get that part..."

I nodded.  Fuck.

***

As I slumped into my office chair I sighed deeply. Nicky was right. Business usually did fucking suck. And the kind of work I usually got wasn't exactly made for quick profit.

Nicky had woken me up at 8am which was about 4 hours before I liked to be awake, especially since the snoring blonde had kept me up until 5am.  I was still exhausted and still hungover.  I was half heartedly poking through the pile of bills on my desk and contemplating some hair of the dog to fight off the lingering hangover when I heard the outside door of my office open and close.

I frowned. Random business at 10am wasn't usual. For a split second I was worried that it might be one of Red's sons, coming to dole out one of their patented "reminder notices" despite what Nicky has told me about having another week.

Then I heard a female voice. Tense. Worried. Faintly annoyed.  "Hello?"

I was so shocked at the thought of work I almost couldn't find my voice. I spoke up and hoped I didn't sound as wrecked as I still felt. "Back here."

I sat up straight, hastily swept the bills into a drawer, ran a hand through my hair, straightened my glasses and took a moment to thank God I had decided to wear something marginally professional today (gray skirt, gray jacket, white silk blouse...) even though I had barely felt human after emerging from the shower and had just wanted to throw on a pair of blue jeans and an undershirt.

The woman who walked cautiously through my inner office door was short, although to be fair everyone was short compared to me.  She had auburn hair and brown eyes and her face matched her voice: wary, worried and annoyed.

She stopped short when she saw me sitting behind the desk.  Frowning she said,  "I'm looking for Alex Vause."

I raised an eyebrow. Jesus Christ her voice was grating. And the attitude didn't help either although I was used to the assumption by now. I counted to ten, repeated don't be an asshole five times in my head and plastered my best business smile on my face.

"You found her."

There was a split second of naked surprise on her face before she covered it up. I gave her credit for even making the effort not to look shocked.  Credit she immediately lost as she cast her eyes around the office and got that "well this is a fucking dump" look in her eyes.  I kept the smile but I could feel my resolve to be nice to her slipping. My office was far from fancy or even spacious, but it was what I could afford on my budget, and it was tidy and clean.  The rest of my life may have been fucked but this I tried to keep as neat as possible.

"How can I help you?" I asked, faintly dismayed to find that my annoyance at her scrutiny had leaked into my voice.  I mentally slapped myself. Stop it dumbass. This is a potential client... and a potential client means that you might not get your ass kicked later by Russian goons.

She frowned at me but walked into the office and took a seat gingerly in one of the chairs across from my desk. "Sorry. I didn't think you were a wo..."

"Yeah I get that a lot," I said, more sharply than I'd intended, cutting her off.

The woman's eyes narrowed but then she took a deep breath and I thought maybe she was trying to smooth out her own inner bitch.

I cleared my throat and tried again.  "How can I help you, Mrs..."

"Harper.  Polly Harper," she said looking surprised I was suddenly being professional. "And...my best friend is missing."

I frowned. "You called the cops?"

"Yes.  But it's been going on two weeks and they haven't done anything. They don't want to do anything."

"Y'know, Mrs. Harper, I'm not one to turn down work but what makes you think I can succeed where they've failed?"

"Because maybe you'll actually do more than sit on your ass and offer me platitudes..." she snapped.

I half smiled.  She had more fire than I had given her credit for.  Even if she still seemed like an uptight bitch.

"You're the seventh private detective I've been to and they all refused the case."

I raised an eyebrow, "What?  Why?"

"Because," she took a deep breath, as though bracing herself, "My friend is Piper Chapman."

I frowned, "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"She's Councilman Bill Chapman's daughter."

Ahhh... the light in my head switched on and I frowned. Bill Chapman was big time, real big time. Been around city politics for nearly 20 years, and angling for the mayor's office next time around.  The good councilman hated people poking around in his business. Hated it enough that those who did often ended up wandering aimlessly through the orange orchards short a few fingers or toes or eyes...

"Look I'm willing to pay you twice your normal rate. I just need to know someone's actually looking for her, actually making an effort. And even if you don't find her I'll have tried..."

I sat up straighter at that. Twice my normal retainer would pay off my debt to Red in on go... But the job...  Missing persons cases weren't exactly my specialty, and they were usually impossible anyway. Plus, I really wasn't sure I wanted to be anywhere near Councilman Chapman's radar range...  On the other hand it's not like she expected me to actually succeed....

"All right," I said after a long pause. I rattled off my rates and she didn't even bat an eye. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pile of bills and a slim file folder.

She counted out the amount I'd asked for and slid it across the desk along with the folder.  I made a concerted effort not to sweep the bills up too hastily, picking them up with deliberate slowness, folding them over and putting them into the inside pocket of my jacket, silently thanking God for trust fund socialites.  Then I slid the folder towards me. Well at least she was organized.

I opened the folder and the first thing I saw was a small picture of Piper Chapman.  I picked it up and examined it closely. It was a formal portrait, like all the high society debutantes got.  And she looked like a fucking movie star. Blond hair, with just the slightest curl, the picture was black and white but her eyes were obviously blue and her smile was like the fucking sun. I didn't think I had ever seen anyone or anything as beautiful in my life.  It was like she was staring straight into my fucking soul. 

Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to find Piper Chapman if only so I could see those God damned beautiful eyes in person...


	2. A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A filler sort of chapter to get us where we really need to be

I knew I was probably beginning to look like a moron, but I couldn't take my eyes off the picture.  The longer I looked at it the more I saw.  Her smile just got more dazzling the more I looked, but her eyes... the harder I looked at her eyes, the more I saw that the smile didn't quite reach them... they weren't full of the same vacant, vapid finishing school politeness that most girls like her were brimming with... there was a sort of... melancholy there, a wistfulness and the harder I looked, the more it seemed to be seeping into my chest, embedding itself there like a...

"Um, excuse me?" Polly Harper's voice cut through the Piper Chapman induced fog I'd been immersed in. 

I tore my eyes away from the picture and carefully placed it in my inside jacket pocket next to the money, trying hard not to look flustered.  I felt like a fucking sap.  What kind of sucker gets that... _lost_ looking at a picture?  I looked back up at Polly who looking at me strangely, one eyebrow raised, like she thought I was crazy.  I took a deep breath, trying not to look as annoyed as I felt, both at myself for getting that absorbed, and at her for interrupting my weirdly irrational staring. "Normally," I said, proud my voice didn't waver, " in a case like this I'd probably start by talking to the family but I'm thinking that's not an option here..."

Polly shook her head, her expression souring as she switched her scorn from me to the Chapmans, "They're as uncooperative as the police, though God knows why. I tried talking to her mother about it but... she just shrugged and said it would be fine.  It's not like they know much about her anyway.  She lives there but her mother is a drunk and her father's never home so..." she scoffed, "They don't like me much. Think I'm _new money_ because my parents are in pictures..."

I nodded, slightly surprised at the venom in her voice. Women like her were usually a lot more polite. Especially when talking about their own. Although I suppose I knew from experience that even amongst swells there were different degrees of snob.  I had already resolved to keep out of Chapman's line of sight.  She was just reinforcing that decision.

"What about her other friends?"

"None of us saw her that day or that night.  The last time I saw her was the day before she disappeared.  We're both volunteer at the Veteran's Hospital, and we'd spent a few hours there.  She seemed fine to me, nothing out of the ordinary."

"You know what she was supposed to be doing the day she disappeared?"

"She was at her job from 10 in the morning to four in the evening.  That was her night to volunteer at St. Anthony's Soup Kitchen.  That usually started at 5."

"Job?" I said with what _might_ have been a _mildly_ insulting tone of surprise.

Polly glared at me. "Yes she had a job, which was a source of vast disappointment for her mother. And she was on track to graduate from college too. She was at Smith until her parents made her come back. Bill wanted her here for his last campaign."

"Sorry," I said, making a concerted effort to actually sound sorry.  I was sorry I'd jumped to conclusions about Piper Chapman.  I was actually rather pleased to have pissed off her best friend.  I had no idea why, but I just did not like her.  Luckily she had just paid me enough to save me a beating, so I had only turned my asshole dial up to 5 rather than 10.  "So where does she work?"

"At Donaldson's Antiquities.  It's a rare book store.  She's a clerk and also acts as Mr. Donaldson's secretary."

I nodded, "All right then.  I'll start there."

***

The rest of my conversation with Polly consisted mainly of me trying to bite back my annoyance as she insisted on daily updates and I had her sign my standard issue contract that stated my hourly rates and how I was going to bill her on a weekly basis instead of at the end of the case.  That wasn't usual, but she didn't seem to mind given that she had been pretty desperate by the time she got to me. I liked weekly billing because I liked to eat and be able to keep a roof over my head. Work wasn't steady enough for me to have the luxury of waiting for money.

As soon as she finally got her ass out of my office, I quickly stowed most of the money she'd given me in the lockbox I kept hidden in a literal hole in the wall behind my bookcase.  I kept $40 bucks on me for expenses then left the office and went down to catch a cab to the bookstore Piper Chapman worked at.

Donaldson's Antiquities  was a classy looking joint just off a quiet street about five miles from my office.  It was a swanky part of town full of well dressed people, the sort of people who could afford to drop a couple hundred bucks on a single dusty old tome that they'd never actually touch, let alone read.  The whole concept annoyed the shit out of me.  Books were meant to be fucking read. 

I walked in to the bright tingle of the bell on the door.  The man at the counter looked up at me, and raised an eyebrow, a familiar look that said, "well, this one isn't going to make me any money".  I looked about as fancy as I was ever going to, and I still didn't fit in with anyone who came into a place like this.  "How can I help you?" he asked, with strained politeness.  He was in his early 50s, tall, with thinning reddish hair, cobalt blue eyes, and had a braying East Coast accent.  He carried himself like a military man, ramrod straight.

When I got the counter I said, "My name's Alex Vause.  You're Mr. Donaldson?"

He nodded warily, "That's me."

I pulled out a card and handed it to him.  "I'm a private investigator, and I've been hired to look into the disappearance of Piper Chapman."

He looked down at the card then up at me with that same incredulous disbelief everyone displayed when I told them what I did.  He was so shocked by my profession that it took him a moment to register what I was actually asking him.  And just like that his face hardened, "I'm afraid I can't help you with that matter."

"She works here doesn't she?"

He nodded, just the barest tilt of his head, begrudgingly.

"Did she work her shift on May 28th?  That was the day before she disappeared..."

"As far as I can recall she did," his words were clipped. I could already tell this was going to be a fucking dead end.

"And did you notice anything odd about her?  About her behavior?"

"No," he said.

"Are you sure, I mean..."

"No.  She wasn't acting strangely.  She arrived, she worked, she left, as she always did.  Miss Chapman was a very efficient employee,"  Donaldson looked at his watch, as though I was on some kind of timer I didn't know about, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a business to run, and if you don't intend to buy anything..."

I glanced around the empty store and bit back a remark about beating the rush.  I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, trying desperately to stay polite, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Donaldson."

He just nodded curtly and turned back to the papers he'd been looking at when I walked in.  I grimaced and walked out. 

As soon as I got out the door, I lit a cigarette and huffed an irritated sigh.  That had been a waste of fucking cab fare.  He'd given me two minutes of his time and the stunning revelation that Piper Chapman was "efficient".  I suppose at least I had determined that she was where she was supposed to have been from 10 to 4...

I took a drag off the cigarette and then started walking down the street.  I needed to catch a cab to the soup kitchen, but it was approaching 1:30 in the afternoon and I was fucking starving.  All I'd put in my stomach that day was four cups of coffee and a piece of dry toast.  There was a diner on the corner.  It was probably more expensive than I usually liked, given its location, but thanks to Polly's retainer, I could afford it.  After the day I'd had I figured I deserved a little bonus, if only for putting up with two assholes in a row.

I was about a block down the road, waiting for the light to turn when I heard someone calling out behind me. It took a minute to realize they were talking to me.  I turned and saw a girl heading towards me at a half run.  I didn't recognize her but she didn't look like a threat, so I stopped and waited for her.  As she got closer I could see that she was probably 5'5", a little on the plump side, wearing a modest skirt and shirt.  her hair was tied back.  She was Latin of some sort, her skin a deep tan, and her eyes big and brown.  She couldn't have been more than a teenager.

When she got to me she just stood looking at up at me with a sort of curious awe for a long moment.  I let her do it for a few seconds, thinking she was eventually going to speak, and when she didn't I said, as gently as possible, "How can I help you kid?"

That seemed to snap her out of her reverie, "Um, oh, sorry.  I uh... I work for Mr. Donaldson.  I was... I was in the back room when you were talking to him... you're looking for Miss Chapman?"

I nodded, "Yeah?"

"I think... I think maybe Mr. Donaldson didn't tell you everything he could have..." she was practically whispering, her tone was worried, and her eyes were darting around as though she was waiting for Donaldson to pop out from behind the lamppost and fire her.

Deciding that perhaps a public street corner wasn't the best place to talk I gestured, "I was about to go get some lunch. How about you join me and we can talk?"

She considered that for a long moment, examining me again, this time more shrewdly.  Finally, sending one last glance back the way she came, she nodded.  "I have a half hour for lunch."

***

We sat down at the diner.  I ordered a cup of coffee and a hamburger.  The kid asked for a chocolate malt and a rueben.  I said, "I don't know if you heard me in there, I'm Alex."

She nodded, "I heard.  I'm Daya.  Daya Diaz.  I work at the store a few days a week, me and my friend Marisol split the days.  Mr. Donaldson has us clean up around the place and make coffee for him.  We run errands sometimes too.  My mom is his housekeeper."

"You were there? That day?"

"Yeah."

I tilted my head, "If you have information why not tell the cops?"

"The cops haven't been around and Mr. Donaldson told me I shouldn't bother them cause her family is probably taking care of it.  But... I don't know.  It's been going on two weeks now, and I just don't feel like it's right that no one's looking that hard."

"So what happened?"

The waitress brought my coffee and her malt at that moment.  Daya looked at her hands on the table fidgeted with her straw wrapper.  "Well I don't know if it was important but... Miss Chapman she didn't...  She seemed kind of nervous all day. Sort of worried about something.  She wouldn't say what.  Then right before her shift was over she got a phone call and then she got real upset.  So upset she asked Mr. Donaldson if she could leave early, which she never did.  He let her, and she left around 3:30."

"She didn't say what she was upset about?"

"Nah not to me. She was whispering on the phone and I was across the room so I don't know what she was talking about but I thought I heard her say something about her dad."

I nodded as the food arrived.  It wasn't much but it was a whole lot more than I had before.  We ate in relative silence. The girl ate fast since her lunch break was almost over.  When she was done she looked at her watch and then up at me, expectantly.  She was probably used to getting permission from adults to leave.  I gave her a smile, "Thanks kid. I appreciate the information."

She stood up, "You're welcome," she was about to turn towards the door when she stopped, "You're gonna find her, right?"

"I'm gonna try.  Can't be wasting people's money right?"

The girl nodded.  "She was always real nice to me and Marisol.  Never talked down to us, always asked how we were.  And she even bought us books to take home sometimes," she smiled, a genuine worried smile, "I just want her to be okay, you know?"

I gave her my best sympathetic smile, "Yeah I know kid.  Thanks again for the information okay?"

She gave me a little smile then scampered off back in the direction of the bookstore.

***

I sat in the diner booth for awhile after the kid left, thinking about what she'd said, considering reasons why Piper would've been agitated, and why Polly Harper hadn't mentioned her being upset.  By the time I left, it was approaching 2:30.  I figured that if I shouldn't head to the soup kitchen until it was nearer to dinner.  If that's the shift Piper volunteered for then going around that time would mean I'd be more likely to run into people she worked with.

There was a library about three blocks away, so I wandered down that way and read some old issues of Life magazine.  There wasn't anything I really gave two fucks about, but reading was always soothing.  It helped me clear my head and I felt like it needed clearing right now to stop it from running in circles, trying to figure out why Piper had been upset.  Better to actually gather all the information I could before starting to jump to conclusions.  After an hour, I left the library and caught a cab to the soup kitchen.

It was located in the basement of a Catholic church.  I wandered down the stairs to the sprawling room and asked the first person I saw in a habit to direct me to the person in charge, who turned out to be a nun.  When I walked into the room she was directing the volunteers who were setting up tables and chairs.  She was in her late 60s and had kind face and a head of red hair.  The person who pointed her out called her Sister Ingalls.  She smiled at me kindly as I approached and said she'd be happy to speak with me, which surprised me a little.  My experiences with church folk had never been exactly pleasant. I tended to assume they were all self righteous assholes from the jump and then I could be pleasantly surprised if they exceeded my expectations.  They seldom did.  It all came back to fire and brimstone, and I was, of course, the worst kind of sinner.

But this woman seemed nice enough as she led me back to her office. Didn't bat an eyelash when I sat down, handed over my card and told her I was a PI, just looked at it and put it carefully off to the side.  "And how can I help you, Miss Vause?"

"I've been hired to look into Piper Chapman's disappearance."

Her face softened immediately, turning sympathetic, "Oh, Miss Chapman... she was such a kind young lady.  Of course I'll help in any way I can."

"Do you remember that day at all?" I asked, pleased to finally be speaking to someone who didn't seem like a complete dick.

"As a matter of fact I do.  I recall it mainly because Piper was late.  She's always quite punctual but on that day she was about fifteen minutes late. She said it was because she was held up at the bookstore," the nun shrugged, "It didn't happen often and we had plenty of help that day so I let it pass so it didn't impact us. I told her it was fine."

"Did she seem off to you?  Squirrely or worried?"

"Not that I noticed.  She got a call near the end of her shift, but that wasn't unusual.  The Chapman's driver  always called to confirm what time she would need to be picked up.  Sometimes she stayed after to help clean up."

"So aside from the lateness, nothing out of the ordinary?"

The sister shook her head, "No, I'm afraid not."

I sighed, "Okay, thank you sister."

She stood at the same time I did and we shook hands.  "Sorry I couldn't be of more assistance," she said.

I nodded and said, "That's all right.  Thank you for your time."

***

I frowned as I emerged into the late evening air.  Piper Chapman had lied to a nun. Daya had said she'd left a half hour early from the book store... but then she'd been fifteen late to the kitchen and used the bookstore as an excuse. That was nearly an hour unaccounted for. And she'd been agitated when she left the store but was smooth as silk when she got to the kitchen.  I sighed, lighting a cigarette. It was weird but it didn't mean anything was wrong necessarily...

It was a little after five. It had been a long day, and I was feeling all the sleep I hadn't gotten the night before.  As much as I desperately wanted to just go home and collapse into my bed, Polly Harper had insisted on daily reports, and I liked to pretend I was a professional, so I headed to my office.  On the cab ride there I started thinking that dinner at Red's might not be so bad. I hadn't been for awhile since I owed her money, but now that I could pay in full, I could go back to indulging in her fucking amazing food.  It had only been about three hours since the burger I'd eaten with Daya, but since I hadn't really had anything other than that, my stomach was already begging for more.  Nicky always said I was a bottomless pit.

I stepped out of the cab and started up the stairs to my office.  My empty stomach and my thoughts of a steaming plate of pierogi were distracting me so I didn't notice the man standing in the shadows next to my door until I was already on the landing.

I stopped dead and stared at him.  Before I could even contemplate turning tail, I heard someone else step up behind me, invading my personal space without actually touching me.  He must have been concealed in one of the doorframes further down the hallway. I risked quick backward glance, then faced forward again, trying not to look as worried as I felt.

The guy behind me was a slim, dusky gentleman named Aydin, who always had a toothpick hanging out of his mouth, which was generally fixed into a perpetual grin. Aydin was little more than a weapon.  His boss pointed him at what he wanted to be fucked up and it got fucked up, usually permanently.

The man in front of me though...  he was fucking trouble.  He had about five inches on me and was broad through the shoulders and slightly paunchy in the middle.  He wore a smartly tailored suit that did nothing to make him look less like the sadistic thug I knew him to be, with his crooked nose and his sadistic leer. His hair was cut short and his dark eyes glinted with malice. A cigarette hung from his lips below a thick mustache.  He fucking grinned at me as he pushed himself off the wall by my door and started walking towards me... 

George motherfucking Mendez.


	3. Touch of Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has a friendly talk with George Motherfucking Mendez.

"Well hey there, Vause?" Mendez drawled, a parody of polite inquiry, like we were fucking pals talking over a beer, "How's tricks?"

"Oh I'm doing great Mendez," I said, forcing calm, "Top of the world." 

He stopped about a foot and a half in front of me, still grinning, "So I hear.  In fact I hear your broke ass has a sweet fucking job."

Well, _fuck_. I didn't even bother to ask how he knew that. Hell, I didn't think I _wanted_ to know how he knew that.  It was irrelevant anyway.  The important thing was that he knew and that he clearly wasn't asking for his health.  Luckily, one of my many gifts was the ability to lie my fucking ass off convincingly under pressure.

I gave him my best amiable smirk, "Nah. Nothing sweet about it at all. Just some guy wanting me to follow his fucking bored as shit wife. As per usual. Barely enough to cover this month's rent..."  I thanked Christ I had secured most of my retainer in my lockbox before leaving the office instead of leaving it in my jacket.  The fucker was bound to search me and that amount of scratch was a lot more than I would've gotten for a simple dirty picture job.  And sadly for me, Mendez was just smart enough to know it. 

His smile didn't falter, but there was a flash of malice in his eyes, "Ahh, guess I was misinformed then. Red won't be happy to hear that..." he finished conversationally.

"Well it's a good fucking thing you don't work for Red, isn't it?"  My mind was running on overdrive and I was trying desperately  to calm it while keeping my outward manner as normal as possible. Trying to figure a way out of this fucking mess. 

God damned Mendez worked for Kubra Balik. And Kubra Balik did things that made Red's operation look like a Salvation Army collection drive. He was the kind of guy anyone with half a brain worked really hard to avoid pissing off.

"You oughta show me a little more respect, honey," said Mendez, lowering his voice and leaning forward so his face was six inches from mine. He was close enough I could smell stale cigarettes, gin and horseradish on his breath. He flicked his eyes up over my shoulder and made the slightest gesture with his head.

Before I even knew what was happening, Aydin grabbed my arms and pinned them back painfully. I grunted and tried to get enough leverage to shake him off but he'd caught me off guard and I was halfway off my feet already.  I was taller than him by a couple inches but he had better position.

Plus even if I could have gotten out of his grip, Mendez was still right in front of me.  He leaned even further forward, his mouth right next to my ear, "I mean, I was tryin' to be nice here, Vause..."  Fast as a fucking viper, he pulled back his fist and punched me in the midsection... hard. All the air sent shooting out of my lungs with an undignified gasp and I sagged in Aydin's grip, coughing hard and trying not to lose my lunch.

He then proceeded to search me as roughly as possible, being sure to grope me thoroughly.  Despite the fact that I was still catching my breath and trying to get past the pain radiating from my midsection, I narrowed my eyes and glared at him hard, trying to convey with as fervently as possible that I wouldn't _ever_ forget this.  He just scoffed a laugh at me when he noticed, "You dykes are cute when you try to glare all fucking manfully..." he put his mouth next to my ear again, "Don't pretend you don't like it honey..."    I resisted the urge to spit in his smug fucking eye, trying to stay calm. If he tried anything more serious, I'd have to at least try to fight back, but for now... I just needed to get out of the situation without losing anything more than my dignity.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stepped back.  He'd found my wallet and had pulled out $20 bucks, which proved nothing.  That was about what he should expect to find for a tail job...  Unfortunately...  he'd also found something else.  His smile got so wide I thought the top of his ugly head was going to slide clean off.  He dropped my wallet on the floor next to the door, and pushed the other thing he'd pulled out of my wallet into my face.  The picture of Piper Chapman. _Fucking hell._

Mendez shook his head,  "Well you weren't lying about the shit pay, Vause," he made a show of looking at the picture and then turning it around to face me again, "But this sure as fuck don't look like any lonely housewife. This here looks like a fucking daddy's girl prep school debutante...  In fact, I'd have to say it looks a lot like Councilman Chapman's kid."

I didn't reply, just kept the full force of my glare on him.  As long as I maintained the anger he wouldn't see how fucking frightened I was beginning to feel.  There was a heavy feeling in my stomach that had little to do with the fact I'd just been punched there.

"You gonna keep up with the bullshit, tell me you ain't been hired to find her?" 

I knew he had me and I knew fucking with him would just make it all worse. But sometimes I just couldn't control myself.  "You know I like a pretty girl, Mendez.  Last week I was carrying around a picture of Veronica Lake..."

"Ahhh, so you've got yourself a copy of her debutante fucking coming out portrait cause you just think she's hot," he looked at the picture again, raised an eyebrow, leering at it in a way that made my skin crawl, "Yeah, I can see that," he grinned at me conspiratorially, "I mean, I'd fuck her..."  He leaned close again, "So if that's the case, maybe you can tell me why your skyscraper ass has been creeping around to all her jobs today?  Nosing around?"

"You know me, Mendez, I love to read..." 

"And go to soup kitchens?"

"Well, I have been down on my luck lately.  And they make the best damned split pea soup in the city..."

Mendez chuckled and turned away, putting the picture into the inside pocket of his jacket.

And then, without warning, he whipped around hit me hard in the left side of the face with the frozen steak he called a right hand. The pain was sudden and intense and it caused fucking fireworks display to go off behind my eyes.  My glasses went flying off and hit the door beside me. My head snapped hard to the side and there was blood dripping into my left eye from the cut his motherfucking ring had created. I swore profusely.

"Not very ladylike, Vause, but I suppose I shouldn't expect much better from someone like you," he growled. I looked up but without my glasses he was a blur.  He leaned down close to my face and came into sharp focus. He grabbed my chin in his hand and spoke slowly and quietly, voice full of unpleasant promises.

"That was a warning, darling. The only one you're gonna get. Stay away from Piper Chapman. You keep snooping we make a return visit. And next time, I won't be near so polite.  Next time, I'll see what I can do 'bout making you into a real woman, all right?"  His tone turned disgustingly lascivious and I had to work not to shudder.

He released my face with a twist, causing a new round of pain to radiate from the cut, and then walked past me, making a point to step on my glasses.  I heard the frames crack loudly.  He was starting down the stairs before Aydin released me, and I dropped unceremoniously onto the floor.

I gritted my teeth, pushed myself up on my hands and knees and didn't bother to pick up my glasses. I kept a spare pair in the office for just such an occasion... which probably indicated my life wasn't exactly traveling in the right directly...  I did scrabble blindly until I laid hands on my wallet.  I gripped in my left hand as I fumbled in my pocket for my keys with my right.  I finally grasped them and managed to open the door.  I practically fell into the outer office, and had the presence of mind to close the door and lock it behind me before I collapsed on the couch in my outer office and groaned, putting my hand over my eyes.

I took a series of deep breaths.  I had been trying so hard to maintain my facade in front of Mendez that I was practically hyperventilating now.  I spent five minutes calming myself down before I was finally level enough to start really, truly considering what had just happened.

I had only been on the case for half a day and Kubra Balik had already sent his top enforcer to warn me off Piper Chapman's trial.  Half a fucking day and I hadn't even discovered a damn thing of substance. That meant that Kubra Balik was interested in the case.  That he was interested in Piper Chapman.  And that he had been paying close enough attention to know that I was nosing around places she frequented.  None of that shit was good.  All of it was, in fact, pretty fucking awful.

Part of me wanted to heed the warning.  Kubra wasn't a man to be fucked with. If he as sending Mendez, it meant he was deadly fucking serious. And guys like Mendez didn't make empty threats. This was the exact sort of dangerous ground that I usually made a concerted effort to avoid treading on...

But there was another part of me, the part that couldn't resist a fucking challenge... If Kubra was this serious about stopping me, it meant there was something to find....... and God damn it did I hate being told what to do, especially when it meant caving to bullies like them... 

I took a deep breath... the two warring impulses running through my head, the conflict somehow managing to make the pain in my head even worse.  Finally, after what seemed like a long time, I forced myself to calm down.  It wasn't exactly late, but I was fucking exhausted.  It had been a long damned day and there was no way I was going to be able to properly process everything that had happened unless I took care of the pain radiating from my eye and got at least a couple hours sleep.  Once I'd done that I could sit down and try to think about all this bullshit logically.

I sat up, wincing at the way the action somehow managed to make my eye throb even harder.  I was just standing up, heading for my desk to retrieve my spare glasses when I suddenly remembered that Mendez had taken the picture of Piper Chapman with him.  I huffed out a groan.  I wasn't sure there was a way the day could've gotten any worse...

 


	4. Crossfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex gets an unexpected visit

I leaned over the sink in my office bathroom, carefully pressing a wet hand towel to the cut above my eye, wincing at the sharp pain that radiated from it every time I applied pressure, cursing myself for taking this fucking job in the first place.  I was never the sort of person who was a sucker for a pretty face.  Pretty faces were a dime a dozen.  I could walk into Red’s on any given night and have any one of them back here in a heartbeat.  I could make a socialite forget her _social decency_ and everything her mother and her teachers and her nanny and her pastor taught her about what was _right_ and what was _moral_ with a single well timed smile or smoldering glance or the barest touch.  I wasn’t an idiot.  I wasn’t a _sucker_.

That damned picture of the strikingly lovely and hauntingly sad blonde hadn’t been the only reason I’d taken this job (the large open wallet of her significantly less intriguing best friend with the extremely wealthy Hollywood parents had played a much bigger role), but it had been a factor.  If I had any sense in my head I'd drop this shit like a hot rock, but for some reason I wasn't even thinking about doing that and I had no idea what the hell that meant.  I loved solving mysteries, I loved using my brain, and figuring shit out... but I fucking hated it when I had to try to figure out my own God damned motivations. 

 _Especially_ when the job now involved getting punched in the face by a guy like George Mendez… I spent half my life trying to stay out of the way of guys like Mendez and his boss.  A single day on this case and suddenly it felt like they were now going to be permanently attached to my fucking hip.  This was supposed to be easy.  This was supposed to be nothing.  Just poke around a little and make a cursory effort then charge Polly Harper for a week's worth of work...  As I pressed the cloth to my eye again and sucked in a sharp breath, I began to wish I had told her to find some other shill and had gone back to following dissatisfied housewives around LA.

The pain had finally started to fade a little, thanks to the aspirin I'd taken and the three long pulls of whiskey I had downed the pills with.  It wasn't anywhere near gone, but it was settled enough that I could take care of it.  I applied some hydrogen peroxide to it, winced at the sting, and then carefully covered it with some gauze.  I grimaced when I looked at it.  Between the cut and the rapidly forming black eye, I looked like a God damned pugilist.  As if I needed anything else to make me more conspicuous. 

I sighed deeply and glanced at my watch.  Jesus… it was only 6pm but I felt like I’d awake for days. All of a sudden, exhaustion hit me like a freight train, as though my body had suddenly been made aware of just how tired and stressed I was and decided to inform my mind by shutting it down completely.  All I wanted was to lie down on my couch and sleep for a day.  Maybe rest would clear my mind, purge my thoughts of Piper Chapman and help me decide what the fuck I should do.  It should've been an easy choice.  It really truly should've been.

Because I hated hassle. I hated being punched. I hated being followed. I hated being someone that Kubra Balik was even thinking about, let alone sending guys after… But even more than that all those things I fucking hated being told what to do, especially by a draft dodging cowardly piece of shit like Mendez…

***

I woke up to someone banging on my door and instinctively brought my wrist up to look at my watch.  The watch face was a blur and I realized I didn’t have my glasses on.  I groped around for them on the table next to the couch and slid them on.  I grimaced when I felt the pain radiating from the cut in my eye, which had wormed its way into the center of my brain, giving me a splitting headache.  My watch read 7am.  I'd slept for over 12 hours, and I still felt like a wet piece of shit… I'd slept fitfully, my dreams haunted by visions of thugs and beautiful women…

The banging started up again, this time accompanied by yelling, “Vause! Open up! It’s the police…”  I recognized the voice and frowned.

“Fuck,” I muttered, standing up and running a hand through my hair, knowing it wouldn’t do much good to try to improve my appearance.  It would’ve taken more effort than I had any sort of energy for, and it wasn’t as though I had any interest in trying to impress him on either a professional or a personal level. The man at the door had known me since I was a 14 year old JD, smashing in windows and smoking cigarettes in abandoned lots. I wasn’t even sure I could impress him even if I tried. Besides, even if I'd wanted to all my clean-ish clothes were at my apartment...

I smoothed out my shirt and tucked it sloppily into my skirt before I opened the door, vaguely wishing I hadn’t been dressed for business when Mendez had cornered me. My jeans and leather jacket were so much more comfortable than this fucking thing. I shuffled out into the outer office, stretching like a cat, listening to my spine crack back into alignment.  I flipped the lock, opened the door wide, and, as expected, found Det. Sgt. Joe Caputo standing outside the door, looking as put upon as he always seemed to when he saw me.  Behind him was another detective who looked like he was about thirteen years old, with a smooth baby face and carefully combed brown hair.  His wide brown eyes reminded me of a basset hound puppy’s.

“Detective…" I growled, my voice sounding like cigarettes and whiskey, "to what do I owe this _very early_ pleasure?”

He pushed past me without any preamble, “We need to talk, Vause…”

“Come right in,” I muttered darkly, shutting and locking the door behind he and the child. He waited for me to walk ahead of him into my office. I sat down in my chair heavily and reached down to the bottom drawer, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and glancing up at him, “You want a drink?”

He raised his eyebrow, “It’s seven in the morning…”

“It's seven in the evening somewhere, Detective,” I said as I poured three fingers of the amber liquid into a marginally clean rocks glass that had also been in the drawer.  “What do you want?”

Caputo sat down in one of the chairs in front of my desk.  The Gerber baby sat down in the other.  Caputo gestured, “This is Det. John Bennett.  He's training with me.”

I snorted, “Detective?  Recruiting them out of elementary school these days, sergeant?”

He narrowed his eyes at me, “You never did know how to show respect, Alex…”

I raised an eyebrow, “Oh it's _Alex_ now, is it?”

A long suffering sigh emerged from underneath his mustache.  His hangdog eyes meeting mine, the look in them softening just a hair, “I told your ma I’d look out for you,” he said gravely, his voice going as sentimental as his eyes.

I winced slightly at the mention of my mother.  Shook my head sharply.  I didn't want to do this right now, not when my head was pounding and I knew that wasn't what he was here for.  My voice was hard when I spoke, “You’re not here for a walk down memory lane… _Uncle Joe_ , so let’s cut to the chase… I have work to get to…”

“Yeah, about that…”

A sigh tore itself from my lips against my will. How the _fuck_... I might as well have put an announcement in the fucking paper for all the good trying to keep it a secret had done.

  “… I hear through the grapevine you’re poking around the Piper Chapman business…”

The grapevine. I didn't want to be anywhere near the God damn grapevine...  Jesus

 “The Piper Chapman business?” I put on my best neutral face as I spoke, which even in my state was pretty good.  Half truths and manipulations were my business.

“She’s Bill Chapman’s daughter…”

“Ahhh, Bill Chapman, councilman and all around big hearted philanthropist,” I said in a grandly overwrought voice, “I didn’t even know that smarmy fuck had a daughter.”

Caputo narrowed his eyes at me, trying to suss out whether I was lying to him, “Yeah.  He does.  She's twenty two.  Came back from college last year to help during his campaign...”

“And she has ‘business’?”

“She’s missing.”

“You’d think that’d be in all the papers,” I said, pouring out another jot of whiskey before dropping the bottle back in the drawer, the picture of moderation.  “Daughter of a guy with that big an ego and a wallet…”

“He’s handling it privately.”

“Of course he is,” I took a sip of the whiskey, savoring this glass, really feeling the burn.  I leaned forward, pinned Caputo with my gaze, “If that’s the case, what is a fine and upstanding representative of the LAPD like you doing talking to me about it at 7 in the God damned morning on a Friday morning?”

He flinched slightly, uncomfortable, “We’re… assisting where we can…”

“Ahhh,” I leaned back again, grinning at him, “Always nice to know public resources are being used to really help those in true need.”            

“I was told you were involved.  With the case.”

“I thought you just said there _isn’t_ a 'case'.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.  I couldn't tell if he was more annoyed with me or angry with himself. “It’s not officially a crime.”

I shrugged, “All right.”

He huffed in frustration, “Are you involved?”

“Since when was tracking down missing socialites my thing, Detective?  You know me.  I’m all about the low hanging fruit.  Angry cheating spouses are my specialty.  Finding a missing rich girl sounds like it might _actually_ force me to make an effort.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“Sure it was,” I said, my eyes steady on his.

We stayed that way for a long moment, staring one another down.  His eyes were boring into mine as though he could dig through my skull and find the truth there.  Sadly for him, I invented this game.  My expression was no more than lightly curious about the missing girl he'd just "informed" me about and heavily annoyed at having been woken up.  The fact that I was actually exhausted and had no fucking leads helped.  Finally, he sighed again, “If you _were_ involved, Vause, I would tell you to back off.  The Chapmans are very private people.  They would rather this all get handled quietly.”

“As far as I can tell it's getting handled fucking invisibly. Not like the papers have hold of it, and I hadn’t even heard of this dame before you walked in here.”

Another long, scrutinizing look, and then he gestured to my face.   “What happened there?”

I hadn't had a chance to look in the mirror, but judging by the still vivid ache, the still persistent throb, and fact that I couldn't open my left eye all the way, I assumed the bruising and swelling had really kicked in and that it was a beaut.  I gave another careless shrug and gestured with my glass, “Got drunk.  Said the wrong thing to the wrong woman.  Got punched by her boyfriend.  You know how it is.”

Caputo shook his head, suddenly looking very tired, and a lot like the guy who was probably the closest thing I had to a father figure in my life, “Alex," he sighed, with long suffering concern, "you could make your life a lot easier if you…”

“...pretended to be something I’m not,” I finished quietly, raising my eyebrow at him.

He frowned, said nothing.  We’d had this conversation a few too many times in the past.  We both knew where we stood.  And at least his concern was actually for me and my health, and not that he thought I was doing something sinful and wrong (I mean, he might’ve thought that, but at least he didn’t say it out loud to me… no one else had that kind of restraint).  I had, however, successfully made him uncomfortable enough that he didn’t question my answer too hard. 

Caputo glanced at his watch and stood, putting on his hat, “All right, we have to go.”

“Nice visit, Detective.”

“If anyone comes to you with anything having to do with the Chapman girl…”

“Stay away from it.  Right.  Got it.”

I walked them to the door, shook Caputo’s hand, and then the kid’s (even his hands were as smooth as a baby's ass), and locked the door behind them.  Then I went and sat down on my couch, thinking hard about why everyone was so fucking interested in making sure no one got curious about Piper Chapman’s disappearance.  And why I had to be the one caught in the fucking crossfire...


	5. While the City Sleeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Alex takes a gamble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to reassure everyone that Piper does eventually actually show up... Please be patient and I hope I can make it worth your while... :)

The day was mostly a waste.  After Caputo and his puppy left, I collapsed again and ended up sleeping until nearly two in the afternoon.  I was so tired that I was finally able to achieve a dreamless sleep.  For once, I woke up without anyone hitting me on the head or pounding on my door.  I ran a hand through my hair and grimaced.  I was still wearing yesterday's clothes and my mouth felt like the bottom of the LA river.  After swallowing a couple more aspirin and chasing them down with whiskey, I hauled my ass down to the street and walked the six blocks  to my apartment.

Once there, I stood in the shower until the hot water ran out (which, given the quality of my plumbing and the building's 60 year old water heater was about 10 minutes), letting it wash away the grime of the last day.  When I emerged, my head actually felt marginally clearer. I brushed my teeth for about forty five minutes and dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a blue button down shirt.  Then I sat down at my kitchen table and wrote out a report for Polly Harper.

I summarized what I'd learned from Donaldson, Daya and the nun, which was about as close to zero as you could get.  Once I was done with it, I pulled out my note book and wrote up the rest of the notes on the case, summarizing my encounter with Mendez and my talk with Caputo.  That wasn't much either, but my notebook was where I was trying to work shit out for myself.  It was frustrating.  Even with all that, the real truth was elusive, like smoke that kept slipping through my fingers when I went to grasp it. 

By the time I was done, it was nearly four.  I called Polly and arranged to meet her at a cafe near her house.  I dropped the report with her, apologized for not having anything more of substance, and left after two very weak cups of coffee I consumed in record time, not wanting to deal with her for longer than I had to.  Plus, she had been eyeing my shiner, and I wasn't anywhere close to being in the mood to answer questions from _her_ about _that._  

I went back home and made myself some more coffee.  I drank it while considering what I wanted to do with myself.  There wasn't anything going on with the case, and there was no way I could get any more information without someone noticing.  I needed a strategy but my addled brain wasn't being particularly forthcoming.  Evening was coming on by that time, and I decided to say fuck it.  I still owed myself a meal at Red's, and I was tired of making my headache worse thinking about Piper Chapman.

***

I got to Red's at around 6pm, and the place was still pretty slow.  I saw Nicky sitting at the bar, flirting shamelessly with the diminutive Italian bartender and raised a hand to get her attention.  Nicky tore her eyes away and grinned at me around her cigarette.  I gave her my serious look and gestured with my head towards my regular booth.  She sighed, obviously disappointed to lose the bartender’s attention but nodded.

I sat down and lit a cigarette and she followed about a minute later with two whiskey sours in hand.  I felt a hell of a lot more human after the long nap and the shower and change of clothes and I actually smiled at her as she handed me the drink.  When Nicky sat, I took a sip of my drink and then gestured with my glass towards the bar, “New girl?”

"Yeah.”

“Is she...?”  I quirked my eyebrow.

Nicky grinned around her cigarette, “Oh fuck no.  She’s got a fiancé.”

“And yet?”

“You know I like a challenge.”               

I half smiled at her, “You’re a dog, Nick.  And I’m telling you, you lose Red another bar girl she’s going to rip your spleen out and use it in the soup.” 

“What can I say, Vause, I’m a fool for love,” Nicky waggled her eyebrows suggestively and took a long drag on her cigarette before tapping it in the ashtray and giving me the once over, “You look like warmed over shit.”

“Sweet talker.”

“Always.  But seriously, what happened?  You piss off someone’s boyfriend again?” 

“Not exactly,” I sighed, leaning forward, “I caught a job.  About an hour after you left.”

“Yeah.  One that's gonna pay the last of your vig to Red?”

I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket and pulled out a pile of bills, sliding it over to her.  It was everything I owed Red, plus interest, almost the entire advance Polly had given me.  “Yeah, actually..."  

Nicky's already wide eyes, turned into saucers as she picked up the money, she counted it out and slid it into her pocket smoothly with the practiced ease of someone who collected for a living.  "Jesus fucking Christ, Vause.  That must be some housewife..."

"It's no housewife, Nick. It's a fucking pit of quicksand."

Nicky tilted her head to the side, questioning.  She always was a sucker for drama.  I told her everything, about Polly hiring me, about Piper Chapman, about Mendez warning me off and about Caputo coming to see me.  Nicky took it all in and frowned, leaning back, “So you’ve got Balik _and_ the cops telling you to back the fuck off?” 

“Yeah, within the space of less than a day.”

Nicky looked down at her drink as she considered that for a long moment.  Tapping her cigarette on the ashtray again, she said, voice serious as I ever heard it, “Then don’t you think you ought to?”               

“I’ve been hired to do a job.”

“You got so much professional integrity you willing to die for your paycheck?  You’re tough shit, Vause, but Kubra is no joke, and you know it.  Even Red treads lightly around him, and you know she don’t back up for anyone.  And if the girl’s family is on it then…” 

“Caputo never said they were investigating.”

“Vause, what do you even care?  She’s a fucking socialite.  Her father's loaded.  She had a debutante ball for fuck's sake.  You’ve met these girls.  They’re vapid and self-centered and annoying.  You don’t owe her anything, and you don’t owe her parents anything…”

“I _know_ that, Nick," I growled, "Don't you think I fucking know that?” I was silent for a long moment, concentrating on my drink.

Nicky examined my face for a long moment then huffed out a breath, her bushy brown eyebrows lifting almost to her hairline, “Ah, shit…”

“What?”

“You’ve got your fucking stubborn look on.”

“What?  What stubborn look?”

“You’re gonna keep at it _just because_ everyone’s telling you not to.”

I scowled, “I didn’t say I was gonna keep looking.”

“Yeah but I know you.  There ain’t nothing you love more than a challenge, and there ain’t nothing you _hate_ more than being told what to do…”

I said nothing, vaguely annoyed that she could read me so well.  Nicky had known me for a long fucking time…

“Look, if Caputo and fucking Mendez couldn’t ‘talk’ you out of it, I’m not gonna even try.  All I’m gonna say is be careful," she pinned me with her serious look again, "And also, understand that if Balik is involved, Red’s gonna be real reluctant to help you out. She likes you, at least when you don't owe her money, but she won't get in a war over you, right?  So tread real, real light.  You’re my friend and I don’t wanna see nothing happen to you, y’know?”

I nodded, “Yeah Nick.  I know.”

She grinned at me and slapped me on the back before getting up to go drop my money off in the back and clear my ledger.  I sat and nursed the rest of my drink, not quite ready to get completely hammered but enjoying the pleasant effect it was having on my headache.  She returned about twenty minutes later with another drink and a plate of pierogi.  She sat and smoked while I drank and ate and we talked about nothing, which was nice after all the serious bullshit I'd been dealing with the past day or so.

I savored the food and finished about an hour after I started, just as the rush was starting up.  Nicky glanced over at the bar.  "I gotta go, Vause.  Time for actual work.  You stickin' around?"

"Nah, I actually have a stop I want to make," I looked her in the eye, "And I need to ask you a favor..."

***

I took a cab out to Hollywood Boulevard.  It dropped me off half a block away from the Stardust Club.  The Club was exactly what it claimed to be: a high end restaurant where the biggest and brightest went to be see and be seen.  It was the sort of place that looked like a movie premiere all the time.  Of course, like anything in this godforsaken city, there was more to it than that.

In this case, it was literally the underbelly.  I walked past the glittering façade with its neon sign and limos, and wandered into the side alley.  About 600 feet into the alley there was a set of six steps leading down to a nondescript looking door marked “deliveries only”. 

This wasn’t a place I frequented.  I was a gambler, but I knew what Balik did to welshers and I didn’t particularly feel like ending up six feet under.  I’d taken beatings for late payment before, usually from Red, but Kubra was on another level.  If you were late with him, even once, you were just _late_ , and from what I heard, his guys didn't make the journey from upright to six feet under a pleasant one. But I wasn't interested in the tables tonight. Tonight I was looking for some clue as to why Kubra Balik gave two shits about Piper Chapman.

I knocked twice on the door and a panel opened up.  A pair of glowering brown eyes appeared, “Yeah?”

Nicky had given me the password for the place right before I’d left Red’s, although I could tell she hadn’t wanted to, “I’m trying to get to Magnolia Boulevard,” I said quietly.

The eyes gave me a hard look, then the panel shut and the door was pulled open. Just my luck, Aydin was on duty,  “Hey there, Vause, didn’t ‘spect to see you round here…”

“Why, cause Mendez gave me a gift?” I gestured to my head, “I'm pretty sure we've come to an understanding.  And he never said I couldn't have a drink..."

Aydin grinned around his toothpick, “Yeah, yeah sure.  Drinks are always fine.  We'll always take your money… what there is of it, eh?”

I nodded, “You’re a generous buncha guys…”

Aydin closed the outside door and led me down a short hall to an inner door.  The door opened and immediately I was assaulted by a wall of sound.  There was a live jazz band playing in one corner.  A dance floor was full of people, and the bar was packed.  The tables, towards the back of the room, opposite the dance floor, were fully populated at this time of night.  All around, I could see Balik’s muscle floating through the crowd.

I headed over to the bar first, ordering a scotch and soda and scanning the crowd, making note of the cigarette girls.  Cigarette girls were always around and heard everything.  If I could corner one I might be able to ask her about Piper...  I turned around to order another drink and found myself face to face with a tall, older man with white hair, blue eyes, an immaculate tuxedo that almost made up for his beer belly, and a sneer on his face.

“Well, hey there, Mr. Healy…” I said, grinning at him.  Healy ran the Stardust, and by extension, the casino, for Kubra.  He was as hateful a little pig as I’d met, and I’d met more than a few.  Just my fucking luck that he was here tonight of all nights and not up in the actual restaurant. “How’s tricks?”

“I oughta kick your deviant ass right out of here, Vause…” he spat.

I shrugged, “I’m not doing anything, Healy.  I’m just here to drink."

“I see you near any of these girls, I’ll have you out on our ass…”

“Oh Sam, if I flirted with any of these girls I’d be committing a sin.  You know I’m tryin’ real hard for heaven.”

“I had my way you and your kind would all be locked up.”

“You’re a fucking charmer, Healy.”

Healy’s eyes were blazing.  The asshole hated me ever since he’d caught me fucking around with one of his cigarette girls in the coat check room three years ago (yet another reason I didn’t come here often).  He stared me down for another thirty seconds  then turned on his heel and walked away.  I got my second whiskey sour and downed half of it in one go, cursing my bad luck. I could already see him going to talk to one of the guys on the perimeter of the room, most likely telling him to keep an eye on me. Fuck.  Well, I wasn’t going to be finding anyone to take home tonight, even if all I wanted to pump them for was information.

I could either slink home, where I'd lie in bed thinking myself in fucking circles like I'd been doing for the last two days, or I could refuse to let this be a completely wasted night.  I'd come all the way here, endured having to see Aydin again, put up with Healy's bullshit.. might as well see how it went.

I drifted over to the tables.  I knew I wouldn't play, but there was always a crowd around the tables waiting for a spot to open, and I figured maybe I could strike up a casual conversation with a regular and see if anything came of it.  It was a feeble hope, I knew, but given that I had literally nothing else to go on this point (and it wasn't like I could question a bouncer), I went with it. I slumped down into a chair near one of the lower stakes table and prepared to wait and see how it went.

The table I was sitting closest to was full and the game was just starting.  I recognized all but one of the men as regulars. The unfamiliar guy had _sucker_ written all over him.  He was dressed in an inexpensive suit that was probably the nicest thing in his closet and he had the slightest tremor in his hands when he handed over the $150 buy in.  If I’d had to guess, I would’ve said he was some bank clerk or middle manager who cleaned up at his weekly poker game in the suburbs and thought that he could swim with the sharks.

He actually seemed halfway competent for awhile.  But then it became clear that the man couldn’t bluff worth shit, and he was even worse at reading everyone else’s poker face.  He was down to his last ten bucks within about an hour, and he looked at it nervously.  One of the guys sitting next to him said, “Come on Harper, shit or get off the can, would ya?”

I frowned slightly.  Harper.  I racked my brain.  Had Polly said she was married?  Had she been wearing a ring?  I was pretty sure the answer was yes.  But what were the chances of this guy being her husband?  Harper wasn’t exactly a rare last name…

“All right, all right,” he said.  He had an Australian accent.  And he was sweating even worse than before.  He put his last $10 in.  “I call.”

I watched him closely as everyone turned over their hands.  Harper lost.  He put his head in his hands.  I could see him talking to himself.  He looked like he wanted to cry.  For just a second I thought he was going to ask for house money to continue.  I was trying to figure out a way to warn him off without getting another black eye for my trouble when he abruptly stood up and walked slowly over to the bar, where he sat and ordered a drink.  I gave it a couple minutes then ambled over to the bar.

I settled a few seats from Harper, ordered another drink and waited.  He nursed the same beer for nearly an hour before finishing it off, running a hand over his face, and walking out. I gave him a small head start before I paid up and left. 

I wasn’t sure how Harper had arrived or how he was going to leave, and it suddenly occurred to me that this plan was half assed and likely to fail.  But it wasn’t like I had so many other brilliant fucking ideas and shiny leads right now.  I knew exactly as much now as when I'd walked into the bar: which was that Kubra had taken the trouble to warn me off the case and a man like Kubra never did anything without a reason…

Harper was walking down the block, and I saw him stop and hail a cab.  Thank Christ for small favors.  He opened the door and got in.  Before he could close it again, I took three long strides and slid into the cab next to him, closing the door.  He and the cab driver both looked at me like I was fucking insane.

“I have one question for you and then you can tell me to get out," I said, talking fast.

“Why can’t I tell you to get out now???” he asked indignant.

“Because depending on the answer, I could make a lot of trouble for you.”

“I didn’t borrow any money down there.  I lost everything I had…”

“Your last name’s Harper..." he didn't say anything, wary of my intentions. "You know a Polly Harper?”

He frowned, “What business is it of yours?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Here’s the deal, Mr. Harper. We’re gonna go to an all night diner and have some steak and eggs and talk.  You’re gonna answer a few questions for me.  And in return, I’m not gonna tell your wife that you just lost $100 of her parents hard earned dollars at an underground casino…”  I'd seen guys like him before. Harper here probably had a job, but Polly was the one with the real money thanks to her parents, and he probably didn't feel that great about it.

Harper looked at me for a long, long moment, a dozen different emotions running across his face. Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded once, curtly.

I turned to the cabbie and gave the address of a diner nearly five miles away, hopefully far enough that none of Kubra's guys would happen by and see me talking to Harper.

***

We got seated at the diner and ordered coffee but no food.  Harper was clearly uncomfortable and wanted this over with, and I wanted to get all I could from him before he bolted or got cold feet.  I gave him my card, told him who I was and what Polly had hired me to do.  He said his name was Pete.

"I only have one question for you, and I don't even know if you'll have an answer.  Why would Kubra Balik have any interest in Piper Chapman?"

Pete glanced around furtively, seeming to reconsider the wisdom of speaking to me.  No one wanted to be on Kubra's bad side.  Finally he sighed.  "Piper was seeing a guy who worked for Kubra..."

I frowned, “What the fuck..?"

“His name was Larry Bloom.  I knew him from prep school…”

“And why didn’t her parents know about this?”

“Well first off he worked for Kubra.  Second he was a Jew.  And you know how that goes over, especially with people like them…”

I grimaced, yeah I did.  “But you knew?”

"Yeah.  I knew Larry, even though I'd lost touch with him since school.  We had some school fundraiser a year or so ago, and I ran into him.  He'd brought Piper with him."

"Polly didn't mention this."

"Polly didn't know."

"She kept it from her best friend?"

"She thought Polly would worry... because of what Larry did."

“And what did Larry do?”

“The books, mostly, accounting shit,” he sighed deeply and glanced up at me, “I don’t want any trouble…”

“Why would you think any of this shit would get you in trouble?”

He lowered his voice until I almost couldn’t hear him, “Messing about with a guy like Balik is trouble…”     

“Look, I’m not asking you to mess with Kubra.  We're just talking.  Your wife wants her best friend back."

“I know she does. She’s paying you our fucking life’s savings…”

I tried to muster up some guilt about that and couldn’t do it, especially not for Pete.  It wasn't like he'd earned any of the money.  I shrugged, leaning back in the booth, “The faster I find her the less of your money your wife throws at me.  So…”

Harper grimaced, “Larry’s father is one of those finance guys who helps Balik shift his money around.  He wasn’t thrilled that Larry wasn’t doing anything with himself, so he got him a job with Kubra’s organization, probably four years ago.  Background stuff, just doing the books for the Stardust that sort of thing… I don't know exactly how they met, honestly.  Maybe through her father?"

“Why'd they start dating?”

“I don’t know.  It’s not like we had a lot of deep talks about it.  After I ran into Larry again last year, I started going down the Stardust with he and Piper on some weekends, that's how I know how to get in...” he took a sip of his coffee

“And…?”  

“And nothing," he lit a cigarette, "We just went. Drank. Smoked. Piper was usually just hanging off Larry's arm being charming. As far as I know Larry was the only thing to link her to Mr. Balik."

“Can you put me in touch with him?"

Pete's eyes slid away from mine, “No,” he said, firm.

I sighed, rolling my eyes, “Look, I'm not going to tell him how I found him. I just need to talk to him."

He blew out a shaky exhale of smoke, shaking his head slowly.  “I can’t put you in touch with him, Vause, because he fucking died a week before Piper disappeared."

"What?"

"Jumped in front of a train out by the railyards.  Said it was an accident.  Said he was drunk..."

Well. Fuck.

***

Harper bolted from the diner not long after that, and I let him.  I believed him when he said he had no idea what else was going on.  He had tagged along with Larry and Piper to the Stardust.  That was it.  I still found it odd that Polly had no idea Piper was seeing someone, but she struck me as naive and dense (she clearly had no idea her husband was running around blowing their rent money at underground casinos), so I supposed it was believable.

I sat in the booth, sipping my coffee and considering the new information. Larry Bloom... I'd never heard the name. He must have been a small fish, and small fish had a habit of disappearing without a trace, especially when they were trying to swim with a shark as big as Kubra fucking Balik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, the favor that Alex asks Nicky for is to give her the password for Kubra's place, which she didn't already have...


	6. The Little Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex obtains an item of importance

The entire way back to my office I was turning over what Pete Harper had told me, trying to fit it in with everything else I'd learned.  I still didn't have all that much to go on, but at least maybe now I had some sort of lead on why Piper was so upset the day she went missing.  If Kubra'd had Larry killed he must have been involved in something big, and Piper may have either known about it or been involved in it...  If that was the case, she'd have reason to be stressed, because once Larry was gone, Kubra might come knocking on her door... And that's where I hit a wall.

Mysterious phone calls and vanishing secret boyfriends were all well and good, but I'd just about reached the edge of what I could learn from my half assed detective work.  Hell, even finding Pete Harper had been sheer dumb luck. If I wanted to know just what Bloom had been up to and just how involved Piper was with it, I had to have help. It'd be easy enough to find out in public records that Larry Bloom existed, and maybe his death would be in the papers, but I'd never get any inside information the way this case was going.

It wasn't like I could ask any of Kubra's guys about what Larry Bloom had done, or the fucking cops. Bill Chapman had clearly had them in his pocket. Joe might be willing to help but I didn't want to pull that card. Caputo was good people, but he still had bosses, and if I let him in on what the deal was, he'd be obligated to start poking around, which put him in danger, and I couldn't do that to him. Nicky had already made it clear that Red wasn't going to risk fucking around with Kubra.  She still had to do business in this town.

Which left me, myself and I.  As per fucking usual.

When I got back to my office, I let myself in, locked the door behind me and ended up tossing my keys across the room in frustration.  Jesus fuck... I had just enough information to give me the barest outlines of a scenario, but that's _all_ I had...  It felt like the real truth of what had happened to Piper Chapman was like a God damned mirage, floating just outside my line of vision, and every time I turned to look at it full on it disappeared.  It was frustrating, and I was fucking tired of feeling frustrated.  Fuck I was tired of feeling tired...

Sighing, I looked at the clock.  It was nearly three AM and I needed to sleep.  I realized belatedly it would've been a better idea to get a cab to my apartment, but I hadn't been thinking straight when I left the diner.  Fortunately the couch in my office was a decent enough substitute for my lumpy bed.  I went to the small bathroom, brushed my teeth, splashed some water on my face, got comfortable and then lay down on the couch, and drifted off to sleep the second my head hit the pillow.

***

Once again, my sleep was hardly worth the name, I kept seeing Mendez and I kept seeing Piper Chapman and when I would wake up I couldn't remember what they'd been doing, but it there were echoes of a feeling of sickening unease...  It hadn't been more than three hours since I'd first collapsed on the couch when I was jolted awake by someone banging on my door...

Jesus fuck... if it kept up like this I'd never need to use my fucking alarm clock again.

Growling out a string of very unladylike curses, I sprang off the couch, grabbing my glasses off the side table and putting them on as I went.  I was wearing a white undershirt and no pants, but it was six in the fucking morning and I was way too aggravated to bother putting any on.  In any case, I didn't mean to open the door at all, just yell at the person on the other side to fuck off.

"WHAT.  The _FUCK!_ "  I shouted at the door, leaning my head close, "Can I _help_ you??!"  I could see the outline of my visitor through the frosted glass.  It looked like a man, a vaguely potato shaped one.

“Uhmmm… are you Miss Vause?” the voice that drifted through the door was tentative and young, but showing no signs of scurrying away back down the stairs.

“Who the fuck is asking?” I growled.

“I’m… you’re… I need to talk to you about… something important…” he sounded worried.  Like he didn’t want to say too much standing in the hall. And the fact that he refused to leave despite my open hostility indicated that it might actually be important.

I rolled my eyes. Fuck this fucking bullshit... I pulled the door open a crack, just wide enough that I could hit him with the full force of my glare, " _What?_ "

His eyes widened as he took in what little he could see of me.  The door was open maybe 6 inches, but he could see plenty.  From the way his mouth was hanging open, I assumed he hadn’t seen many tall half naked women in his time.  I endured the blatant gawking because he seemed awed and fascinated rather than gross, and because it gave me a moment to examine him back.

He didn't look much older than 18, and he was one of those kids who was desperately trying to be a beatnik.  He wore battered denims and a button down bowling shirt with an army jacket over it.  The patch on the jacket said “Chapman” which got my attention.  He had soft, harmless blue eyes, a head full of shaggy reddish hair and a scraggly goatee beard.  He wore a porkpie hat he probably thought made him look _really_ counterculture. He looked like he’d walked out of a fucking poetry reading full of stoned trust fund kids down on the beach... and given the time and the smell wafting off his jacket, he just might have.

“Seriously kid, I was about five seconds away from being comatose again and I haven’t slept for what feels like a week, so either get to the fucking point or fuck off…”

 “Uh, I really don’t wanna talk about this in the hall…”

I took a very deep breath and closed my eyes, running a hand through my hair, trying to stay calm... “Fine,” I muttered. I opened the door wider and gestured him in.

He walked past me, making zero effort to hide the fact that he was examining my legs again.  He wandered into the inner office.  I locked the door behind him and followed him back, sweeping my pants up off the floor in front of the couch and pulling them on as he stood studying his surroundings.  I sat heavily behind my desk soon as my pants were secured and pulled a cigarette out of the box on my desk, noting with some dismay that I was almost out.  I lit it then turned my exhausted, irritable attention to the kid.

“This is awesome…” he breathed, “Just like the movies…”

“What?” I snapped.

“You’re like… Humphrey Bogart or something…”   

I huffed a laugh, “I’d like to think I’m a little more attractive than that…” I was so tired that I almost added that I wouldn’t mind having a wife that looked like Bacall, but I stopped myself.  I didn’t really know who this kid was or what he wanted.  I assumed he had something to do with Piper Chapman... and people coming to call about Piper Chapman hadn't exactly been working out all that well for me lately..

The kid’s eyes slid to me. My legs had disappeared beneath the desk, so he focused my other most prominent assets. “Yeah, well… yeah.”      

I chuckled, amused by the look on his face. Leering men just pissed me off.  This kid… well, he was a kid.  His look was one of open, genuine admiration, as though good looking women were rare creatures in his world. “So you gonna tell me why you were trying to break down my door, kid, or do I have to play twenty questions?”

He tore his eyes away from my chest and seemed to recall himself.  He slid into one of the chairs across from me, “Yeah, um.. I’m… I’m Calvin… Cal… Chapman…” the laid back manner of a moment before had been replaced by nerves now that we’d gotten back to business, “Piper’s brother…” I raised an eyebrow but just nodded, “The younger one.  I mean, we had an older brother,” he unconsciously fidgeted with the Army jacket he was wearing, “But…” he faltered for a second and cleared his throat, “… anyway, Piper… I know you’ve been trying to find her.”

I frowned, sitting up a little straighter, “How do you know that?”

“My… I eavesdropped.  My dad… he…” here the kid’s brows knit and a look of genuine dismay and anger came over what I assumed was normally a pretty relaxed face, “… he won’t fuckin' look for her… all the cops he’s got in his pocket, all the resources.. he won’t fuckin' look for his own fuckin' kid, you know… and my mom she’s taking half a bottle of Valium an hour and washing it down with vodka, so she’s no help…”

I leaned forward.  I was almost regretting being an asshole to this kid.  He looked like he was gonna cry.  But I also wasn’t sure how I felt about my name crossing Councilman Chapman’s lips. “What did he say about me?”

The kid, Cal, looked up at me, “He was talking to one of his yes men.  Asked whether the cops had warned you off the case like it was something he was checking off his to-do list… they said that they’d had someone talk to you… said it seemed like they'd gotten their point across,” he frowned, “… I didn’t know whether you were… even on the case, cause they said you’d denied it, but…”

I pursed my lips, wondering where to go here.  He didn’t seem hostile.  He seemed pissed at his parents and sympathetic to Piper, but I didn't really want to admit anything about what I was doing to any member of the Chapman family.  Cal seemed like a good kid, but he still lived in that house and who knew what he might let slip... Before I could say anything, he continued.

“Someone needs to be looking for her.  Someone needs to find her,” he looked down at his hands, “I already lost my brother and I didn’t even like him that much but he was my brother.  And Piper was…. Piper _is_ the only one who even talks to me like a person, you know?  Treats me like I’m not some stoned out reefer addled disgrace.  She’s the only one who doesn’t love me because she’s obligated to… and they’re just going to…” he threw up his hands in frustration, “they’re just gonna let her disappear forever… and they don’t even give a shit…”

I sighed heavily, lowering my voice, “Look, kid, yeah... I’m still working on the case.  But I’m kind of getting tired of being told I’m gonna die if I don’t back off, and I’m running out of leads.  So…”  I wasn’t sure why I was confiding in this kid.  But so far, outside of Polly Harper, he was the only one who really seemed to be interested in Piper Chapman’s well being, rather than covering up whatever happened to her.  And I needed all the allies I could get.

Cal took a deep breath, steadying himself, then reached into the inside pocket of his brother’s army jacket and pulled out what looked like a novel.  “This might help,” he said, handing it over to me.

I looked at it.  The cover said it was a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_.  I glanced up at him, eyebrow raised skeptically, “I’ve read this before, kid.  It’s good but…”

He rolled his eyes, looking very much like the teenager he was, gesturing towards the cover, “No, inside… it’s her diary.”

I felt like someone had just plugged my finger into a socket.  A jolt of energy ran through me as I sat up straighter and opened the cover of the book. I muttered, "well, shit..." as I looked down at the first page.  Instead of Austen, the pages were covered with Piper Chapman’s words, written out in a neat, concise hand.

I looked up at him after a long moment, "Did you read this?”

 “Some of it… I found it a few days after she left… disappeared,” he frowned again, “whatever… it was in my room.  In one of my drawers that my parents don’t know about, " his eyes shifted slightly, guilty, and I wondered if it the secret drawer held reefer or girlie magazines or both, “only Piper even knew about that place.  She must have put it there for me to find.  She…” he cut his eyes to the floor again, “… she must have known she was going…”

 “Why didn’t you give it to your parents?”

He looked up at me, narrowing his eyes, “They would’ve just thrown it away. Or ignored it.  They don’t care.  Especially my dad.  All he wants is to avoid a scandal.  I wanted to find someone who was really trying to investigate her disappearance.  I thought maybe the cops, but then they started showing up at the house talking to my dad, so I knew that wasn’t going to do it… if you actually care… even after you obviously got hit over it…” he waved a hand at my eye.

 “Okay kid.  Okay.  Thanks…”

He looked at his watch, “I gotta go. I snuck out last night to go to this rad bonfire shit on the beach, and my buddies are waiting for me. I gotta get home before they notice I’m gone.”

I frowned, “What you don’t have a driver?”

 “Well, yeah of course.  Our old driver, Eddie, he was pretty cool. Always took us places when we wanted to go and didn’t rat us out to our dad.  But my dad fired him like a month ago and the new guy he hired is totally up Bill's ass, tells him everything…”

I shook my head.  “Life is tough, kid…”

He stood up and I walked with him to the door.  I thanked him again for giving the diary to me.  He gave me his stoner grin and shook my hand.  Saying, "You've got nice legs, by the way..."

I barked a laugh, "Thanks, kid..."

And then he was heading down the stairs to the street, and I was closing and locking my door again, turning back to the inner office, crossing in long strides to my desk.  My exhaustion had disappeared the second Cal had told me what this was. I wasted no time in opening the diary... Maybe now I'd finally get some actual clue about what the fuck had happened to Piper Chapman.


	7. In a Lonely Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot thickens

I settled down at my desk and opened up the journal. It had been started on January 1st of this year.  Piper's handwriting was neat and concise, even when I could tell she was becoming upset...

_January 1, 1954- One of my college profs once said that writing a journal was therapeutic somehow. I laughed then, thinking, I’m surrounded by friends, what could I possibly put in a book that I wouldn’t just tell one of them?  Of course, that was before Bill forced me to leave all those friends.  He has never allowed me to have anything of my own. I am nothing to him but a prop… Just like Danny was. Today is the third anniversary of Danny’s death.  Danny died because Bill told him to join the Army.  Danny wanted to be a damned architect… And Father didn't even care.  Made him feel less of a man for wanting it. Made him feel like a disappointment for not joining up. And so Danny did what he wanted and Danny died.  I wanted to be away from father. I wanted to be away from both of them, from everything about my family and my life and I was, and I was... Smith was everything I had hoped it would be... And then they dragged me back here. So now I’ll have to find another way to escape.  I am left with just one friend, and I can hardly confide in her what I plan to do, but I can't stand to keep it only to myself.  I've tried to do so since I returned in November and it does nothing but eat away at me.  Perhaps if I write it down, it will help... I have my doubts, but what is there to lose?_

Well. Fuck. I guess all that talk Polly was spouting about Piper Chapman being the perfect little daddy's girl debutante was bullshit.  I suppose I should've suspected Polly wasn't getting all the breaking news flashes about Piper's mental state, given that she didn't even know the girl was seeing anyone...  So the message here is pretty clear.  Piper hates her father and wanted to get away...

_January 3- I have thoroughly searched father’s papers. It was easier than I thought it might be. In his infinite hubris, his desk was unlocked. There was a safe that was secured, but I didn't even need to try to get into it. Everything I needed was in the files in his desk.  He is setting up a little side business with a local thug, K.  K wants concessions from father, zoning permits, things that are far to mind numbing for me to bother writing down here, particularly since I am the only one who will read them and I don’t wish to put myself to sleep.  K is to give him kickbacks for the dirty business.  And in a stroke of luck, the man K has handling the numbers for him is Larry Bloom. Larry has been calling me ever since I've been back in town, desperate to rekindle what he rather nauseatingly calls our "secret summer romance," which is a very... rose colored view of what had gone on between us. I had met him at one of Father's fundraisers.  He chatted me up the whole evening. I found him quite dull, but he was sweet and just intrigued enough, and a girl can't shy away from attention especially when she's having to spend the entire summer enduring her father.  He was a decent enough distraction. Plus, he was a Jew, which means I had a legitimate excuse to keep him secret from my parents and everyone else. He's clearly still interested. Luck is on my side._

Jesus. I didn't even have to read any further to know what had happened here. She wanted out, she needed money to do so, and daddy sure as shit wasn't going to give it to her willingly.  She's also determined to fuck him over in the process.  So she finds out he's got a sweetheart deal with Kubra, and that, as luck would have it, her ardent and boring as fuck summer fling is working the numbers side of that equation.  It was a perfect set up.  Reel Barry in, have him skim a little off the top, keep it up until she has a big enough nest egg to get the fuck out of Dodge...  I shook my head.  This girl was fucking brilliant... and had zero qualms about using Barry's feelings in order to manipulate him into playing with some serious God damn fire. 

All I could think was that she must really have hated Bill Chapman, to risk Kubra's wrath. 

_January 9- Larry was elated to hear from me.  We went on a date.  It was about as exciting as I suspected it might be, but at the very least I don’t have to worry about him becoming violent.  It's possible he is the most passive man on earth._

I barked out a laugh.  I almost felt sorry for Barry... almost...

_February 13- Tonight I finally told Larry about the plan and his possible role in it. It took this long for me to trust he wouldn’t run to his father or K with information. He is understandably nervous about stealing from K, but I told him as long as he keeps the amounts he skims off each kickback small, no one will notice. Father has done this for years with government payments and no one has ever caught it.  He said he will consider it._

_February 20- Larry agreed to the plan. Tonight we discussed logistics. He’ll funnel the money to me and I will be responsible for handling it. At the rate I’m proposing, I should have enough to leave and truly establish myself within 6 months.  I don’t want any more than that. Only enough to get out (and if it’s enough to make Father notice and despair, even better.)  I have not told Larry why I want the money. He thinks I am only trying to punish Father. Telling him I’m leaving would be problematic.  He’s become quite attached._

_March 10- Eddie is getting increasingly agitated about my involvement with Larry. He asks all the time whether I have had allowed Larry to "fuck" me, and I have said over and over that I have not. Which is not technically a lie.  I haven't let Larry get any closer to that than I have Eddie himself.  Sometimes the amount of effort it takes to calm Eddie from these rages is almost not worth the trouble. Unfortunately, I need him as much as I do Larry at this point. It would be a gift not to have to touch either of them..._

Well, I guess at least she hadn't fucked either of them... not really.  The thought of either of them touching her (and what she might have had to do to put off the fucking) turned my stomach.  There was a reason I preferred the company of women...  But it was also something about them touching Piper specifically... I had no idea why the fuck I felt this way.  It's not like I knew her, but somewhere in the course of the last few days I'd gotten very, very... protective of her... 

And who the hell was Eddie?  And why did she need him?

_April 29- Father fired Eddie today.  This will make it significantly more difficult to continue meeting with Larry as I have, and to make it out to the place where it is hidden.  The worst was that it was the man’s own fault. He was foolish enough to allow himself to get caught bringing Cal back from some idiotic beach party.  I almost laughed in Father’s face when he told me about it. As if sneaking Cal out to beach parties was the most inappropriate thing Eddie had done in the course of performing his duties... Now I'll have to find a way to meet Larry away from the house and get him to take me to the prize. I would have preferred he never know where it was...  _

I frowned... Cal. Beach party... Something Cal had said when he'd dropped the diary off...  About their driver.  The "cool dude" who had been fired about a month ago...  Eddie must have been the Chapman's driver.  The pieces clicked into place.  Of course Piper would need a driver.  I wondered if she even had a license.  A lot of people didn't, especially people who could afford not to.

 _May 4- Larry and I fought today.  He informed me increased the amounts he is skimming, almost doubling my original projections. He came to me looking like the cat that ate the God damned canary, so pleased with himself, so damned PROUD of what he had done.  He said he'd been doing it for three weeks now without telling me. He said he was trying to surprise_ _me, as though this was some glorious gift he was presenting to me.  He insists he's being careful.  He insists no one will notice.  The worst part is he doesn't even care about the money.  He just wants to prove to me how CLEVER he can be, like those idiotic men who drag race down the LA river to impress their women.  All I could think was that those men have a bad habit of crashing and burning when they do such things.  FUCKING LARRY. I don't understand how he can be such a moron.  He works for K, he has seen what K can do to those who displease him, and yet he still insists on making our already risky operation even moreso.  Perhaps he is being careful, perhaps it is still only a drop in the bucket. But he is risking more attention. And even the tiniest bit of additional attention could destroy everything... I'm afraid I slapped him rather hard across the face. _

Barry was dumber than I thought. Maybe she should've let him fuck her. Maybe if she had he wouldn't have been so fucking eager to try to impress her by putting both their necks right out on the chopping block. A lead weight settled in my stomach and got heavier as I continued to read.  Most of the next two weeks' entries were variations on the same theme.  Piper couldn't stop the idiot from skimming the larger amount of money, and she was getting more and more anxious about it. Her state of mind was reflected by the fact that her neat handwriting got a little less so, and was peppered with more words in all capital letters, more swearing (which I actually found delightful... I always liked a woman with a dirty mouth, even if, in this case, it was being caused by genuine distress). 

By the time I got to May 21st, the neat handwriting had become a near scrawl, and there were places where the ink was smudged... she'd been crying when she wrote it... (though whether it was for Barry or for herself, I couldn't tell)

_May 21- Larry is dead.  Larry is dead and K killed him and no one gives a shit. The cops ruled it a suicide four hours after it happened.  It was no suicide.  Larry wouldn’t throw himself in front of a fucking train, he was too fucking proud of himself for being a genius to commit suicide.  I warned him. I told him. He never fucking listened to me.  It won’t be long until K comes for me.  The only thing that’s probably stopping him from making a move is father. Not that father cares about me, but it would LOOK bad.  Even father's fear won't be enough to keep him at bay for long.  I don't have much time._

_May 23- I called Eddie today. He says he’ll help. I thought it might be a challenge, but it didn’t take much.  Eddie is a simple creature, always has been. He’s really my only option. He is so smitten with me he ignored the danger father posed, and he's clueless about men like K. He thinks they're just well armed businessmen. He thinks they have honor. He thinks he has nothing to worry about. His family is from a place up Route 66 a ways, some hole in the wall called Lake Town. He thinks it’ll be easy to convince them to let us stay there, just for awhile. K and my father have no influence there, no presence.  It's just far enough away...  I just have to get hold of the money, then I can go._

My mouth dropped open.  Jesus fucking Christ... was it really going to be that fucking easy?  Then I lifted my fingers and brushed the edges of my black eye... well, maybe it hadn't been _easy_...

_May 26- Cal is worried about me. I can tell. He’s the only one who really looks at me anymore, the only one I feel I can let my guard down around, but now I have to be cautious. I can’t let him know what’s going on. I don’t want him to try to talk me out of it, and I don’t want anyone to suspect he had anything to do with it.  He is the only thing I will miss.  Leaving the rest of this life will be a blissful relief._

_May 27- Eddie called me while I was at Donaldson’s. Said he was worried. Said he needed assurances. Actually had to leave work early, make him promises I didn’t want to make, but there was nothing for it. Without him this doesn’t work. I need what he has and I have to make this sacrifice, at least for now.  He says he’ll be ready tonight._  
That was the last real entry. Below it was a message written out to Cal in block capitals, one that Cal never got to.  I could see why he might have stopped reading.  It must have been hard to think about his sister going through something like that.

_Cal- I’m leaving this for you so at least you’ll know why. I didn’t want you to think I left you alone with them for no reason, and I'm sorry to do it... but I have to get out.  I have to.  Everything about them and my life is suffocating me.  I can't live like this. I hope to be able to contact you soon...  I love you… Piper_

I was up and out of my chair as soon as I closed the book. I went into my hiding place and took out what was left of Polly's advance, about fifty bucks.  I pulled a shirt over my tank top and my coat over my shirt, not bothering to button either of them.  Slipping on my shoes, I rushed out of my office, locked it behind me, and practically flew down the stairs. 

I had the cab take me to my apartment.  It was nearly 9am now.  Now that I knew where Piper was, I felt a sense of urgency, something in the center of my chest that felt like it was pulling me towards her.  But I was also wearing the same clothes I'd been wearing for nearly 24 hours and I needed a shower.  I ran upstairs and took a quick shower.  I was wandering around in just my underclothes, trying to decide whether I wanted to play this professional or casual when someone started pounding at my door.

Shit. People knocking on my door before noon had not been working out for me the last couple days. Grimacing, I pulled on the first pair of clean pants I laid hands on, a pair of denims, and then pulled a white button down shirt on.  The knocking got more insistent.  And then a voice... "VAUSE!"  A jolt of fear went straight through my chest right down to my fucking toes.  Mendez... The knocking became pounding, I could hear him jiggling the door knob, "I know you're in there you fucking bitch..."

Fuck fuck fuck... I didn't bother to button my shirt, just grabbed my jacket (grateful I'd secured both my wallet and the diary in it before I'd gotten in the shower), pulling it on as I put my feet in my shoes and sprinted for the window as gracefully as possible.  I yanked it open as I heard the pounding become a man's shoulder hitting the door hard.  Fuck...

I crawled out the window.  I'd done this plenty of times before, but usually it was angry husbands pounding on the door, and the worst I might get was a black eye and maybe a night at the station before Joe quietly bailed me out... but Mendez wasn't an angry husband and Mendez had no interest in giving me another black eye...  I scurried down the fire escape faster than I'd ever moved in my life, bracing myself for the moment when Mendez's head would appear from inside my apartment, when a bullet would go careening past my head.  I lived on the third floor, and I was jumping down to the street in less than half a minute.

I sprinted out of the alley, hoping I wouldn't run in to any of Mendez's backup, but thankfully I saw no one.  A cab pulled up a little down the street and the passenger opened the door.  I slid into the now vacant back seat almost before the other passenger had gotten out completely.  I slammed the door myself and I rattled off the address of my destination.  The cab pulled away from the curb and I chanced a look behind me.  No one was in pursuit.  I exhaled heavily in relief, but Mendez had meant business and I knew he wouldn't stop trying to find me... as if I needed any more motivation to get out of town fast...

***

The cabbie dropped me off in front of Nicky's ritzy ass house by the beach. Nicky liked to act like she was salt of the fucking earth, but her real mother was loaded and she didn't have any problems drawing from her trust fund just like any other poor little rich girl. I'd put myself together a little during the ten minute drive. I'd buttoned up my shirt and run my hands through my hair, which simultaneously soothed my nerves and made it look like less of a rat's nest.  I paid the cabbie and walked up to the door.

I pounded on it hard.  It was only 10am and I prayed Nicky was both home and awake.  Thankfully, she answered after just four knocks.  She was pulling her coat on, as if she'd been about to leave. I remembered that it was Saturday, which is a day she usually went on her collection rounds.

Her initial smile at seeing me faded quickly when she got a good look at my face, "Vause?  The fuck is wrong?"

"I need a favor Nicky..."                                                                                                                        

"I been hearing that a lot lately... which ain't like you..." she said, shaking her head. "The fuck is going on?"

I glanced over my shoulder nervously, "Can we talk inside?"

***

I gave her a quick rundown of everything that had happened since her last favor to me (giving me the passphrase for Kubra's place).  She listened in silence.  When I finished she looked at me as seriously as she ever had, leaning forward, "Red can't help you with this, Vause.  I told ya..."

"I know, I know.  I don't want Red's help..."

"Then why the fuck you here askin' me for favors?"

"I'm not asking you for a favor as Red's girl.  I'm asking you for a favor as my friend..."

"This favor gonna have Kubra up my ass?  Cause I love you, Vause, like my own long lost gigantic twin, but I ain't fuckin' stupid..."

"No.  In fact, you might like it."

***

Twenty minutes later, Nicky dropped me off in front of one of her mother's many, many rented garages with a set of keys.  Before I got out of her car, she pulled me into a hug that felt a little too much like she was saying her final goodbyes, and said, "Don't go getting your ass killed, Stretch... not quite sure I could forgive you for that..."

"I'll try my damndest, Nick," I said, getting out and heading towards the small, squat storage unit.  Nicky pulled out as I opened the garage.  Inside was one of Nicky's mother's cars, a sleek black Cadillac that was conveniently registered to her Brazilian boytoy Paolo.  I climbed in, started it up, and pulled it out of the garage.  I paused only long enough to close the place back up before I angled the car out onto the road, heading towards Route 66, the road that would take me to Piper Chapman...


	8. The Lady in the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex walks into a bar...

Lake Town was little more than a blip on the map, an hour east of LA via Route 66, the kind of place that people passed through on their way to someplace more exciting.  The kind of place kids spent their whole lives planning to escape. There was a gas station on the highway that marked the turnoff towards the town.  The town itself was about a mile further in, tucked behind a ridge.  The sign along the road helpfully informed me that the population was 200, and looking around I thought that might be a little too generous.  The main street held the usual assortment of bars and stores, and the personal residences radiated away from it in a neat grid.  There was a motel at the end of the street. 

I spent a little time driving a meandering path up and down the streets, acquainting myself with the town’s layout. There wasn’t a whole lot to see. The most interesting thing about the place was that there was no actual lake, which wasn’t surprising given it was in the middle of the desert. Either someone thought they were being ironic and clever or some guy named Lake had founded the place.  Not that I really gave a shit.  There was only one thing about this town that interested me: that Piper Chapman might be holed up here somewhere…  I finished my extremely short tour around the town, then turned and headed back to the motel.

I pulled into the parking lot and secured myself a room, already feeling conspicuous as the clerk eyed both my appearance and the sleek Cadillac I’d pulled up in. He kept his mouth shut though.  He’d obviously been well trained and was aware that a paying customer was a paying customer no matter what they looked like.  This didn’t look like the kind of place that could afford to ask questions anyway…

It was near noon, so I dropped my shit off in the room, making sure Piper’s diary was in my inside jacket pocket, and then went snooping. I was planning on asking around. A town this small, someone like Piper Chapman would stick out like a sore thumb… a beautiful, blonde sore thumb, so I figured someone might have noticed her.  Turned out I didn’t have to bother.

As I walked down towards the town diner, there was motion across the street, someone coming out of the deli a little ahead of where I stood.  I glanced over perfunctorily and then did a sudden double take.  Walking away from the deli with a paper bag in hand, headed back the direction I had just come from, was a tall woman in a modest skirt and silk blouse. She had a silk scarf tied around her golden blonde hair and a pair of large dark sunglasses on, but somehow I knew it was her.

Piper fucking Chapman in the flesh…

I almost didn’t believe it could be this easy, but Lady Luck owed me a dozen or so and it was about time that bitch paid up.  The blonde gave no indication she’d noticed me. I turned as nonchalantly as possible and began ambling down the sidewalk keeping an eye on her across the street.  I grimaced at how conspicuous I must’ve looked.  I was damn good at following people, but I usually did it in the city, where there were crowds to hide in and people just loitering on the sidewalk weren’t anything out of the ordinary.  This town was tiny, there were about a half dozen people walking around and most of them probably knew one another.  I was a near six foot tall woman wearing blue jeans and a leather jacket… I stuck out so badly, I might as well have been wearing a sign around my neck that said “PI” and doing the twist in the middle of the road.

But through some miracle she didn’t seem to notice, didn’t even look my way.  Maybe she was preoccupied, but she just kept her head down and went about her business. She walked two storefronts down to a florist’s shop.  She went in and I leaned against a lamppost and tried to look like I was just casually smoking a cigarette. I cursed myself for not even bringing a newspaper to hide behind, although it’s not like that would’ve been any less obvious. After about five minutes she came back out of the florists with a bouquet of something pink in hand and continued down the street.

She made no move to cross the road when she came parallel to the motel, just kept walking to the outskirts of town, where the road ran off further into the desert.  At the edge of town was a garage with two repair bays.  The doors were wide open and there was a mechanic inside, leaning into the engine compartment of an old Packard. The sign mounted above the office said “MARS AUTO REPAIR”.  Behind the garage I could see the roof of a house, probably where the mechanic and his family lived, but I couldn’t see much more.  Piper walked in to the garage’s office and disappeared into the back. 

I continued my slow walk down the street, taking a right at the next intersection, intending to circle back, while I tried to decide what my next move was.  Her diary made it clear she was leaving for a reason, that she had no desire to be found, so it wasn’t as though she would invite me in for coffee if I just knocked on the door.  Besides, I had no idea what Eddie the driver’s part in this was.  If he really had helped her escape, I doubted he’d be particularly thrilled to see me either.

I cut back down through an alley and ended up across the street from the mechanic again, concealed in the shadows, watching the mechanic work.  I figured maybe this was Eddie’s family, his “people” she’d mentioned staying with. Part of me wondered what she was still doing here, why she hadn’t moved on by now.  It seemed that the longer she stuck around in one place, the more chance there was that her father or Kubra would find her…

Leaning up against the alley wall, I kept an eye on the mechanic shop.  I decided to wait a bit, see if she went out again, see if she went anywhere else…

I lingered in the alley for nearly two hours, and all I saw was the mechanic working and dealing with customers.  Piper didn’t re-emerge, and I didn’t see any sign of anyone else either.  I was beginning to get stiff, and I’d actually been drifting in and out of consciousness.  Cal had woken me up early this morning from a fitful few hours of sleep, and I’d been running on adrenaline ever since.  Now that I’d slowed down, it was starting to catch up with me.

I sighed and went back to the hotel.  Piper didn’t appear to be going anywhere any time soon, and at least I knew where to find her if I had to.  I unlocked the room and collapsed on the bed.  The mattress was a little lumpy but I barely cared.  I slipped off to sleep almost immediately and for once I was so tired it was dreamless.

I woke up feeling about as rested as I had in days.  I looked at my watch.  It was nearly six, which meant I’d been asleep for about four hours.  My stomach was rumbling persistently.  I left the room in search of food.

****

There was a diner in town, and it probably would’ve been more sensible to go there for dinner, but I wanted a fucking beer so I walked into the town's single watering hole (the creatively named Lake Town Tavern). It was a little after 6 on a Saturday night, and there was hardly anyone there, just a half dozen regulars scattered around the small, cramped, dark space.  I sat down heavily  on a bar stool and ordered a beer. The bartender gave me the eye, just like the clerk at the motel, but then he  glanced at the $5 bill I slapped down in front of him and didn't say anything.  He may not have liked the look of me, but he had to pay the rent.

I’d been sitting there for maybe five minutes and was just contemplating asking for some food when someone slid onto the stool next to me. A man. A fireplug of a guy with a dirty work shirt and a sweaty face and beer on his breath.  His face was alight with what he probably thought was a seductive look, "Your daddy know you're out by yourself, honey?"

I glanced down at the wedding ring on the hand that held his beer. My eyes tracked back up to his face, "Your wife know you're trying to fuck random women in bars, sweetheart?"

He was drunk enough that that’s all it took.  He raised his right fist and growled, "You fucking..."

I turned fast and caught his arm.  I didn't move, just held it. I grinned at him, leaned forward. "You _really_ wanna go there, Jimmy Cagney? I've got 3 inches on you and I don't think you've ever tried to hit a woman who could hit you back so unless you wanna tell the guy at the hospital sewing your nose back on that you got your ass kicked by a girl..."

There was a long moment of silence. He grimaced, and for a second I thought he was going to try it. But then some distant sober part of his brain seemed to activate and he scowled and ripped my wrist out of my hand.  He spun around, stalking away and muttering something like "fucking bitch."  I turned back to my beer and shook my head. The bartender was glaring at me, but the money I'd laid on the bar was just enough for him to ignore that.  I hadn't _actually_ hit anyone.

I finished off my beer and signaled for another. Just as it arrived, someone took the seat next to me again.

I thought for a second it was the guy from earlier. But then I took a breath in and I knew it was no guy.  I took in a noseful of perfume that was immediately enticing. I turned and was met with the sight of Piper Chapman in the flesh, sitting primly on the bar stool next to me. Her picture hadn't done her any justice at all. In living color she was almost indescribably fucking beautiful. Her hair was golden blonde with a perfect curl to it, her lips were red.  Her smile as she looked at me was sardonic, and her eyes bluer than any blue I had ever seen in nature examining me with some amusement, something else I couldn’t identify hidden behind her gaze.  The minute I looked into those eyes I felt like an electric current was running through me, like an immediate indefinable connection, the kind I would've scoffed as unbelievable romantic bullshit at if someone else had described it happening to them.  It sure as hell was unlike anything had never felt anything like it before.

“You know,” she said, her voice lilting and airy and as lovely as her face, “for a detective you're not very good at being inconspicuous.”

I laughed, “Not my fault people can't resist my charm," I turned to light another cigarette, trying to avoid having to address the fact that she thought I was a detective.

“No,” she said, her voice softer now, contemplative, “I don't suppose they can…”

The way she said it made me look back over at her.  I momentarily lost the ability to speak when I saw how she was looking at me, her eyes were doing a slow circuit from my head to my feet and back. I could almost _feel_ the force of it.  When she got back to my eyes, she looked into them as though she could see straight through me, right into the center of my brain.

 “Why are you following me?” she said quietly after a long moment.

I mentally slapped myself.  Giving myself a pathetic little pep talk.  _Stop it. Stop letting her rattle you. She's just looking.  No girl makes you this fucking addled just by looking... that's not how this works..._ I cleared my throat, “What makes you think I'm following you?”

“Answering a question with a question,”  She smiled faintly, “Not the most convincing way to deny something," a tinge of bitterness painted the outside of her voice as she continued, "My father has been having people follow me since I was 16.  I know what it looks like... and you haven't been making much effort to be subtle.”

I shrugged, took another sip of my drink. “It's a small town.  And I don't exactly blend.”

“No.  You do... Stand out... especially when you're trying desperately to look nonchalant while you stare at me from across the street...”  She was scrutinizing me again, eyes sliding over the planes of my face. Closely. Very, very closely, with an open, faintly wistful look in her eyes. I felt myself heating up under her gaze, the intensity of it throwing me off, robbing me of my voice.  After a long moment, the wistfulness disappeared and a shrewd sort of guarded calculation replaced it.  "Who sent  you?" she asked, her tone suddenly guarded and serious as her eyes.

There was no percentage in denying it.  I knew how smart she was just from her diary, and the way she'd examined me made me feel like she had me all figured out before I said a word. "Your friend Polly."

She raised an eyebrow, "Polly?" she sighed, looked down at the floor for a moment before looking up again, "I didn't think she'd care that much."

"She must care some. She doubled my rate."

"You can't have been her first choice..."

I bristled at that, annoyed enough by the implication that the spell she'd cast on me was temporarily broken, "The fuck is that supposed to mean, princess?"

She laughed, a short, sharp genuine laugh that sounded like sunshine felt.  My anger was drowned in a sudden lurch in my chest that I tried to ignore.  She gave me a dazzling smile, "Don't take offense... I don't doubt your skill, I'm only thinking that a woman wouldn't have been Polly's first contact."

"I wasn't.  I was her seventh.  But she did think I was a man."

"Oh?"

I produced a card and slid it over to her, "It's a common mistake."

She glanced down at it, then back up at me, "So, Alex Vause," she said my name slowly, like she was testing out how it sounded, "How exactly did you find me?"

"Cal gave me your diary."

The smile disappeared, her eyes snapped up to mine, suddenly serious and faintly distressed, "What?"

"Your brother Cal found out I was working the case and gave me your diary.  You didn't exactly keep where you were going a secret."

"Did he show it to anyone else?  Father perhaps?"

"No.  He seems about as fond of your father as you are."

"Yes, father dearest is quite the loving parent."

"Cal was upset that no one seemed to be looking for you.  He wanted someone to care."

"That sounds like Cal," she said softly, a fond, exasperated smile crossing her face, the softest I'd seen yet. "I should've known he'd want to give it to someone, no matter how much it said I didn't want to be found."

"A lot of people are looking for you, you know," I said quietly.

"Of that I have no doubt," she replied, the softness falling from the edges of her smile, "And I'm going to assume you haven't told anyone where I am, not even Polly, otherwise they'd be here instead of you."

"It's been half a day. I could've called them."

"But you didn't," she says it like it's a fact, like she _knows_ me...

I shake my head, "No.  No I didn't."

"Why is that?”

Truthfully, I had no fucking idea why it was.  I turned away from her and took another drink of my beer, shrugging, not knowing what to say that wouldn't make me sound like a pathetic idiot.  There was a long pause.  I could feel the weight of her gaze burning into the side of my face as stared at my beer, trying to think of what I should do next.

I sensed her leaning closer to me, a change in my immediate atmosphere, “You may find it best for your health to stay far away from me, Alex Vause,” she said it in a low voice that was as close to a purr as I thought a human being could get, caressing each syllable of my name as it fell softly from her mouth. The words were a warning… the tone was an invitation.  I turned to face her.  Her eyes were fixed to mine, so blue that it was driving me to distraction.  The low level shock I had felt when she’d first met my eyes hadn’t faded even a little.  I felt like I was holding a live wire, current running through my veins and heating up my blood.  I couldn’t look away from her.  _I didn’t want_ to look away from her _._

It felt like it took forever to find my voice.  Being this close to her was scrambling my thoughts… “Yeah?” when the word finally came out it was low, raspy, and edged with a lot more _want_ than I had intended it to be.

“Yes,” she breathed, “I’ve been told I’m trouble.”

“Are you?”

The edges of her (fucking gorgeous, invitingly soft looking) red lips turned up in a wicked grin that hit me hard somewhere pretty far south of my brain.  “Yes…”

I had never wanted to kiss someone so much in all my 28 years. The look in her eyes could only be described as a smolder.  With considerable effort, I tore my gaze away from hers before I could drown completely in the sea of enticing promises that was filling them. I put my hands flat down on the bar. The traitorous fuckers had been practically twitching with the impulse to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in through my nose, reminding myself that we were in a small town bar, that we were probably already attracting far too much unwelcome attention just for being here alone together at nearly seven in the evening…

I exhaled through my mouth and opened my eyes again.  I picked up my beer, took a long pull on it, finishing it up, and lit yet another cigarette before I finally felt like I could turn back towards her.  When I looked back over at her, she was straightening up, moving herself smoothly out of my personal space. I tried not to show just how much the loss of proximity disappointed me.  Her face was a mask of debutante politeness, her expression blankly friendly, her eyes clear and cool and neutral, like she’d pressed some button and instantly transformed.

She smiled, a dazzling, polite thing brimming with charm that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes, and I realized the bartender had approached while I had been desperately trying to gather myself. 

His expression was stern, his voice heavy with not very subtly hidden meaning, “Anything else I can get for you ladies?  Or do you have to be gettin’ home to your fellas?”

My head snapped in his direction, my eyes narrowing instantly, on instinct, and a smartass remark charging to the tip of my tongue, but Piper spoke before I could open my mouth, “No we’re fine, darling,” she said sweetly, full of innocence,  “We just lost track of time.  You know how it is… once we gals start with our talk…” she laughed melodically and slid a couple of bucks across the bar, “Thank you for reminding us… wouldn’t want my man to go hungry…”

I turned to stared at her, eyebrow raised, both impressed and mildly disturbed by how completely and seamlessly she had slid into this persona.  Her entire manner was different than it had been less than two minutes ago when she’d been leaning into my personal space, exuding sex. Her voice, her face, the way she held herself, the way she moved… all of it… it was like she was entirely different person.  She smiled at me brightly, “Come on, _sis_ , let’s get home,” she said as she tugged on my shirt sleeve.  Her eyes met mine and for a split second, she dropped the act and she gave me a hard look that told me to follow her lead.

I tried to ignore the warmth that seemed to creep through my entire body from where her hand had touched my arm. I plastered a smile on my face and nodded, grabbing my jacket and sliding off the bar stool as I trailed her to the door.  We stepped out into the cooling early evening air. As soon as we were out on the sidewalk, she turned and began walking down the street in the direction of the motel and Mars Auto Repair.

The sun was sliding down in the sky behind us, casting a dusky glow over the town, shadows lengthening as I trailed after her, trying to keep my eyes off her ass and only partially succeeding. Two blocks from the bar, we passed by an alleyway that ran between a hair salon and a bank, both closed.  I was just beginning to wonder where we were going, what the fuck we were doing, when she slid into the alley, quick as a cat, reaching out and grabbing my arm to pull me in after her.

The alley was dim, but we weren’t exactly invisible from the street, just concealed in shadows.  She had her back to the wall.  She grabbed the collar of my jacket with one hand and brought the other one up to the back of my neck, tangling her fingers in my hair as she pulled my head down towards her… stopping when our noses were about an inch away from one another.  As she’d pulled me forward, I had braced my hands on the wall behind her on instinct, trying to keep myself steady.  The scent of her perfume invaded my senses again, much stronger and closer now than it was in the bar.  It wound through my brain, and I felt intoxicated. I had an overwhelming feeling of everything else fading into the background, like the only thing that mattered in the whole world was her.

She was holding me there, not pulling me closer, just looking at me with hooded dark eyes.  It was torturous. I felt rooted to the spot, paralyzed, unable to react, which was not me.  I was always the one in control of the situation. I was the one that made women forget their own names and how to make their voices work...

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she lowered my head towards her, shifting ever so slightly, so my ear was so close to her mouth that I could feel her lips brushing my earlobe as she spoke… suddenly my paralysis was gone, and I was itching for contact.  I had to close my eyes and concentrate to keep myself from pushing her against the alley wall and kissing her until neither of us could breathe… for starters… “You’re staying at the motel?” she breathed.

I suppressed a shudder at the feel of her breath against my ear, “Yes,” I managed.  I wasn’t entirely sure I would’ve been capable of any statement more complicated.

“What room?”

For a split second I couldn't even remember... then, “4B…”

She breathed out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle that was laced with sin, and I felt her lips brush my ear again… deliberately… ever so softly… the contact lingering for a long moment…  Jesus. _Fucking._ Christ… I was certainly I was going to spontaneously combust...

… and then, as quickly as she’d pulled me into her embrace, she disengaged herself from me, stepping underneath my arm (still braced against the alley wall) and took three steps back until she was out on the sidewalk again, looking in at me, “It was so _ever_ so nice to meet you, Miss Vause...” she said, her tone again laced with socialite false cheer, “Please don’t be a stranger.”  And then, with a debutante wave and a beauty queen smile, she disappeared in the direction of the auto repair shop.

I exhaled a shaky confused breath and turned, leaning heavily against the alley wall, and fumbling in my jacket pocket for my cigarettes. I lit one up and ran a hand through my hair, taking a long drag.  What the everloving _fuck_ had just happened?


	9. Her Kind of Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which someone knocks on a door

Somehow I managed to get my shit together enough to walk back to the hotel.  It took me three tries to get the key into the lock, and once inside the room I collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to rein in my thoughts, and figure out what the hell had just happened.  What the _fuck_ was Piper Chapman’s game? 

After a half hour of my mind chasing itself around in circles, not helped in the least by the fact that my libido kept trying to smother my common sense and convince me to leave the room and find her somehow (she was half a mile away at that fucking auto shop and it was like I could _feel_ her thinking about me), I stood up and went into the bathroom where I took a very long, very cold shower.  I had to get my head back to business.  But then, my head hadn’t really been on _business_ since I first laid eyes on her.  If I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve called Polly Harper and told her Piper was safe and sound, then fucked off back to LA where I could’ve gone to Red’s and picked up any girl I wanted...

Instead, here I was, eye fucking Piper Chapman in the middle of a small town bar… if the locals had been so inclined they could’ve taken crowbars to our pretty little heads and no one would’ve given two shits. I shook my head hard, trying to clear it, raising my face to let the cold water hit my bruised eye, trying to let the sting that went into my brain bring me back to reality.

I stepped out of the shower, dried off and put on my glasses.  I’d had to leave my apartment in a rush, so I hadn’t exactly packed for the occasion. I had nothing to sleep in so I just settled for pulling on the adequate, threadbare robe the motel provided. I sat heavily on the bed.  It was near 8:30 now, far too early for my night owl ass to go to sleep, but it wasn’t like I could go anywhere in this fucking Podunk town.  I’d made too much of a spectacle of myself as it was.  I’m sure the good people of Lake Town were on the brink of gathering a mob…  And thinking about Piper Chapman was a dead end.  All it was going to do was get me hot and bothered again.  I had to do something to clear my mind.

Cursing, I remembered I hadn’t even thought to bring a book with me.  I grimaced and pulled open the drawer of the bedside table, pulling out the fucking Gideon's Bible…  I sighed… any port in a storm… a book was a book, and the New Testament wasn’t so bad…

***

I must have drifted off to sleep sometime around the parable of the prodigal son, because I was jolted awake by a knock on the door.  My glasses were askew and the Bible was splayed open on my lap.  I frowned and put the Bible aside, glancing at the clock on the side table as I did so.  It was nearly 11, way past a reasonable time to be awake in a town like this. 

Another series of knocks. Quiet but urgent.  I got off the bed and went to the door, putting my eye to the peephole to see who it was. Once I saw, I knew I shouldn’t open the door.  I knew I should just call out for her to leave.  But I didn’t have it in me.  If I could feel her presence from a half mile away, I could sure as shit feel when she was just on the other side of this piece of shit door.  It was like something was reaching through the fucking thing, pulling her towards me.  I opened the door and stepped back to admit her, not saying a word. The second she crossed the threshold it felt to me like the air inside the room was charged with electricity. I slowly closed the door, turned both locks and slid the deadbolt.  Then I turned towards her.

I examined her closely.  The first thing I noticed was that the entire left side of her face underneath her eye was red and blotchy.  I frowned, feeling bile rise up in my throat and a spike of anger run through my head.  Someone had smacked her.  She seemed smaller now, diminished somehow.  Her arms were wrapped around her midsection protectively.  Her makeup was gone, and I noticed for the first time that she was wearing what looked like a silk nightgown with her jacket thrown over it and a pair of slippers on her feet. I worked my way back up to her eyes. 

Gone was the tough façade she’d been wearing earlier.  She looked exhausted, worn out, stressed, like she had been strong for so long and just couldn't do it anymore.  But her eyes still held the same note of fascination when she looked at me, and when they locked on to mine, I felt that connection again, the one that made it feel like I’d known her for much longer than a few hours.  The one that drowned out everything else around us.    
She was standing close, so close I could feel the heat radiating from her.  Without thinking, I raised my right hand and touched her left cheek gently, soothingly.  She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes and exhaling softly.  She was reacting as though she'd been crawling through the fucking desert for days and I was offering her a canteen full of ice cold water. I wondered how long it had been since someone had touched her this gently, and it broke my fucking heart to think that it was probably a pretty long god damn time…  I didn't have to ask why she had come here.  I _knew_.

After a long moment, she opened her eyes and looked into mine again, and this time all that I could see in them was _want_ , the same thing I had seen in that alley... my heart started beating faster, it felt like very part of me was suffused with sudden, overwhelming heat, like my blood was suddenly made of fire.  I frowned, fighting myself, making one last ditch effort to stop myself from doing something stupid, “Piper…”  I'd meant for it to come out firm, commanding.  But instead it was breathless, barely a whisper, husky and (I swear to God against my will) laden with the same desire that was pouring out of her eyes.

Before I could say another word, she took a step forward, pushing me up against the door, pinning me there and grabbing the front of the robe and pulling me into a searing kiss. My entire world came into sharp focus.  It was the most blissful fucking thing I'd ever experienced in my life.  And suddenly, everything I knew was Piper Chapman.  All of my senses were filled with her.  The smell of her perfume, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her skin beneath my hands (and Jesus fuck it _was_ just as soft as it looked)  as I pushed her coat off and ran my hands over her arms, grabbing her hips firmly, turning us around, pushing her towards the bed…  The sensation of her hands as she pushed them underneath the shitty ass robe I was wearing, running them around my back as she pulled me closer.  The sound of her saying my name over and over like a prayer… All of it felt so damn good, I couldn’t have cared about anything or anyone  else… 

Sex for me had always been enjoyable, but nothing more than a series of quick fucks.  I liked getting off.  I liked getting other people off.  It was a fun activity, nothing more nothing less, and there was never any percentage in getting emotionally involved.  Not just because I wasn’t really equipped for it, but because in the world as it was, any relationship I wanted to have could've gotten me killed...

But this… this was something else.  This was something that transcended all of that.  I had learned Piper Chapman existed less than a week ago.  I had laid eyes on her in person 12 hours ago, I had spoken to her for less than a half hour, but I had felt a deep and abiding connection… like we had known each other our whole lives, like we had known each other in a hundred other fucking lives.

This felt like a consummation, a promise, like we were sealing something. And I knew it sounded like bullshit, like something a mental patient would say to try to justify being obsessed with some girl he was stalking, but I felt like this meant we were attached to each other forever… like now there was no going back… and the scariest thing was I didn't even fucking care. 

Because I realized that deep down I had _known_ this was going to happen from the second I'd laid eyes on her... as though it was inevitable.

***

After, she was nestled in my arms like she belonged there, like she’d been made for me… even as I thought it I shook my head and chuckled around the cigarette I had between my lips.  Such a fucking lovesick moron. Nicky would've kicked my ass if she saw me now.  Piper had my right hand in both of hers and was playing idly with my fingers.  I watched her for a long moment.  As much as I would’ve loved to have just settled into the afterglow, resting and recharging before proceeding to what would, at this point, be round four, my damned brain wouldn’t stop demanding that I ask a few questions. Fuck me and my need to _think_ about things.  I tried to start with something relatively easy…

“He did that didn’t he?”

Her hands stilled, “Did what?” she asked, quietly.

“There’re bruises. On your midsection… and on your face…”

“There’re bruises on yours too,” she trailed her hand over the bruise Mendez had left on my midsection and I suppressed a groan at the sensation it caused, a sharp pain mixed with a flutter of pleasure.

 _Keep your mind on the matter at hand, you horny bastard_ , I told myself, _this is fucking serious_ … I caught her hand in mine, waited until she looked up at me with those beautiful fucking eyes. “Yeah,” I said softly, “that’s how I know what it looks like when someone punches you in the ribs.”

She held my gaze for a long moment, then flicked her eyes down to the mottled, fading bruises on her own sides. I’d noticed them before, but hadn’t really been in any condition to ask about them at the time.  She sighed, “Yes. Eddie did that.”

I had been expecting the answer, but I still felt a quick stab of anger, “ _Motherfucker_ …”

She shrugged far more relaxed about it than I wanted her to be, “The cost of doing business. We had a disagreement.  He got the final word,” she let out a humorless chuckle, “Men always seem to with me.  I really ought to be used to it by now.”

I brought her hand up and kissed it gently, “You should never have to get used to that, Piper.”

She looked up at me, surprised by the tenderness of the gesture. My heart lurched again at how surprised she seemed at any sort of physical gentleness. “You’re kind to say so.  But you obviously haven’t met my father.”

I grimaced, “Probably for the best.”

“Hmmm…” she sighed. She reached up and took the cigarette from between my lips, putting it between her own and taking a drag.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

A long pause.  As though she were contemplating just how much she was prepared to tell me. Still so fucking guarded.  Finally, her voice hard and her tone short, she said, “He has half the money.”

I frowned, “What?”

“In order to convince him to help me, I had to promise him half the money. He insisted on his half up front and then… hid it somewhere when we got here.”

“You were intending to stay here?”

“No.  We were going to go to Mexico eventually. We were just going to stay here while we waited for things to die down a little, until we could be sure my father wouldn’t send someone.  But he didn’t _trust_ me enough to keep the money near.  He thought I’d take it from him and run off without him. ” I could hear the frustration in her voice.

“Was he right?”

She leaned across me to crush the butt of the cigarette in the ashtray on the side table.  I breathed in sharply and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the fact that she was very deliberately let our chests brush together.  _Business at hand, business at hand business at fucking hand..._   She gave me that god damned wicked grin as she settled back into the crook of my arm, her voice was all exaggerated innocence when she spoke again, “About what?”

“About you taking the money and running?”

Serious again, she shook her head, “No.”

I gave her a look, eyebrow raised.

She flicked her eyes up to mine, then back down to where she had my hand in hers again, tracing patterns on my palm with her thumb absentmindedly.  “Well, not originally.  I fully intended to keep my end of the bargain… at least to a degree.”

“But now…?”

“Now he won’t leave," she snapped, her hand stilling for a moment as she glared towards the window and the auto repair shop beyond, "He keeps coming up with excuses, and I’m beginning to think that maybe he’s trying to find a way to get my half of the money and then send me back to my father…”

“Where’s your half of the money?”

“Someplace safe,” she said, quietly.

I chuckled, “I figured as much…  So Eddie is trying to stay in town.  And you can’t leave without him because he has half the money and you don’t want him to have that much?”

“I wasn’t going to leave him empty handed.  But half is a lot.”

“You already agreed to give it to him.  Man might be sore if you went back on that.”

“Not if I didn’t consult with him about it first.  And forgive me if I don't really give a damn whether he's sore about anything."

I squeezed her hand gently, “But you still need him?”

“As long as we stay here I do.  Without his brother, we have no place to stay.  And we’re still too close to my father and Kubra.”

“How far is far enough?”

“Another country would be an excellent start.”

“And how do I fit into this?”

“You don’t,” she said quietly, looking up at me, her eyes going soft around the edges.  She laid the lightest of kisses on my collarbone, “I didn’t plan on you at all.  I thought Bill might send someone to find me, or maybe Kubra… but I figured when they showed up I’d just tell Eddie and he’d want to get the hell out.”

“So why’d you stick around after you saw me?  I mean, you knew I was following you.  You knew I’d been sent to find you…”

“You... intrigued me," she held my eyes as she spoke, "At first it was just that you were a woman.  I didn’t think father or Kubra would send a woman so I wanted to know who had… and then I met you and… then I didn’t want to leave so badly anymore…”

“You barely know me.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t feel it…”

“What?”

“The connection…” she pulled herself up and kissed me for a long moment.

I sighed when she pulled away, my hand on the side of her face,  “Yeah… I felt it…” I admitted, knowing that doing so made me vulnerable.  I didn’t want to dwell on the flood of emotions I had felt as I said it, so I added, “Have to say, after reading your diary, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be your _type_ …”

She raised her eyebrow.  The mischievous grin made an appearance again, “I did go to a women’s college for three years,” she was playing with my hands again.  She really liked my hands... although considering what I'd just done with them, I couldn't necessarily blame her.

“So you’re just what?  Experimenting?”

“I was experimenting when I went to women’s college for three years,” she said, quietly, “That's not what this is.”  She said it with earnest intensity and she didn’t elaborate further, just nestled in tighter to my side.  I didn’t really know what else to say.  It wasn’t like I had so much vast experience with fucking pillow talk.  Usually I was either running out the door or passing out as soon as I’d gotten mine.  People always accused me of running my mouth too much, but this was beyond my experience, and I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it all. 

“So now what?” I asked.

“Now… I don’t know.  Every second I stay here is another second my father could be getting closer.  I need to get out, but I won’t do it without the rest of my money…”

There was a long pause.  Realization dawned and I huffed a breath, “You want me to help you,” I said softly, frowning.

She went still for a long moment then looked up at me again, suddenly serious, “That’s not why I did this, Alex.”

I looked at her shrewdly, finally letting my cynical logic brain take over, “So I’m somehow different from Larry?  From Eddie?  Isn’t this what you did to them?”

“I never really fucked Larry,” she said quietly, “And Eddie and I… only recently…”

“You know what I _mean_ , Piper…” I said softly, I looked her in the eye, “There's obviously some fucking thing between us… but I’m not an idiot," I tried not to sound hurt... Jesus what was I turning into... "If you’re gonna use me, you might as well tell me now, so at least I can decide whether it’s worth my while or if I just want to haul my ass back to LA…”

“I’m not _using_ you…” she said, sounding wounded.  She shifted to her elbows so she was hovering over me, her eyes wide open, honest, full of feeling, so damned blue, “I… I feel… I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.  Yes, I want your help, but you’re not like them.  I didn’t do this to get something out of you.  I did it because I wanted to…”  there were tears shining in her eyes now, “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I did anything like this because I _wanted_ to...?”

I looked into her eyes and Jesus I wanted so much to believe her. I hadn’t felt like this about anyone ever and it hurt me to think I was being used… but she was so adamant, the look in her eyes was so fucking _open_ … and so god damned melancholy and sad after that last admission. When she looked at me like that, it was nearly impossible not to want to kiss her long enough and hard enough to make her forget about every fucking asshole who'd ever used her... to make her forget a life she wanted to escape so badly that _she_ felt like she had to use _them_...

Somewhere, deep down, there was a voice screaming at me that this was too good to be true.  She’d used Larry.  She was using Eddie… and now she was using me…  I was usually so relentlessly practical that this wasn’t even a fight. Women drifted in and out of my life all the time. I’d never even had to think about something like this before…  The voice was telling me to stop, to kick her out, to get dressed and get back into Nicky’s sleek black Cadillac and keep the pedal to the floor until I got back to LA… but I could hear my heart beating in my ears and I could feel the rush of blood to my head as I put my hand on her neck and drew her down to me and as her lips met mine, suddenly that voice went completely silent, drowned out every other impulse in my body telling me just how fucking right this felt…

***

I woke up to find Piper pulling on her jacket. I lifted my wrist to look blearily at my watch.  It was nearly four am... she'd been here for a very constructive and enlightening five hours...  She sat down on the bed next to me, trailing her fingers along my jawline, “I have to go.  Eddie passed out drunk last night, but I need to be there when he wakes up, or else he’ll ask questions.”

I frowned, mind still groggy with sleep.  We'd only passed out about an hour ago, “Okay.”  My throat felt dry.

“Come by the garage around ten.  Eddie and his brother are going to the next town over to pick up some parts and they’ll be gone at least until at least mid afternoon."

“All right…”

She leaned down and kissed me again, and then she slipped out of the room.  I sighed and let my head drop back down to the pillow, running my hands over my face.  God damn it.  What the fuck was I getting myself in to? 


	10. The Set Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Piper makes Alex some breakfast

I woke up with a jolt at 9:30 from a dream that had started out as a continuation of last night’s activities and had ended with Piper holding a gun on me and laughing as she ran out the door…  I shook my head hard, cursing my subconscious for giving me a news reel of my worst case fucking scenario.  Sighing, I got out of bed, took a shower and got dressed in yesterday’s clothes.  By that time it was a quarter to ten.  I left the hotel room and walked down towards the auto shop, slipping into the same alley I’d hid in to watch the place yesterday.

The place was closed up tight, the open sign in the office door flipped to closed.  I waited until ten AM exactly and then crossed the street as casually as possible.  No one was in the office, so I walked around the shop to the house behind it.  It was a quaint little two story house.  I saw the curtain in the front window twitch back as I rounded the corner from the front of the shop and the door was yanked open just as I was arriving on the porch.

I walked in the door and she shut it behind me.  She was wearing a pair of slacks and a sleeveless blouse today, her hair tied back loosely.  As soon as the door was closed she wound her hands around my neck and pulled me down, her lips meeting mine, slipping her tongue into my mouth almost before I was aware of what was happening, pushing me up against the door.  I felt her hands tugging my shirt up and I groaned.  Using every ounce of fucking willpower I possessed I managed to pull away from the kiss, "Piper..." I rasped. 

She moved to my neck, running her lips over it down to my pulse point, "Yes... _Alex_?" she breathed.

Fuck fuck fuck...  I was not going to get distracted, at least not yet. The dream I’d had had bothered me more than I wanted to admit.   My head fell back against the door... she was tugging at the collar of my fucking shirt, laying open mouthed kisses along my fucking collar bone.  I sucked in a breath... _Willpower, God damn it..._  

“We have to resolve some things before we get too distracted, Piper,” I managed. 

"Things?" she said against my neck, her voice dripping with desire.  One of her hands was still on my collar, the other one had snaked under my shirt and had been moving inexorably down towards my belt buckle...  She stilled her movements as she spoke and I felt a lurch in my stomach at the loss.

"Yeah..." I tried to gather myself, force my heart rate to still, force the fire in my blood to cool...  "Yeah... things... like what the fuck the plan is..."

My arms were wrapped around her waist.  Her hand moved off my belt buckle, but then settled on my midsection, tracing a light, lazy pattern there.  Not. Helping. Me. Fucking. Concentrate... I knew if we went any further than we already were, if she actually moved her hand either up or down a few inches, I wouldn't be able to stop, and we'd end up christening every flat surface in this fucking house...  and I didn't think we had as much time as we would need to do that properly.

After a long moment, she sighed, her warm breath coasting over my neck, causing me to shudder.  I sensed rather than saw her smile at that, “I know…”  She moved her hands, reaching up and linking them behind my neck instead.  I opened my eyes and risked a look at her.  She was giving me a wry, resigned smile.  She kissed me again, briefer, "You and your willpower..." she said, kissing my cheek.  Then she sighed heavily,  removed her hands from around my neck and turned,  heading towards the kitchen, “Come on.  There’s coffee in the kitchen, and I have eggs and bacon leftover from breakfast.”

It took me another long moment to calm down completely, to be sure that I wouldn't just pin her up against the icebox when I got into the kitchen.

It helped that I was remembering that I hadn’t really eaten since lunch the day before.  My stomach made a decidedly unsexy sound as I walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. Companionable silence fell as she went about fixing up two plates of breakfast and two cups of coffee. 

We sat and ate, and I marveled again at how comfortable this felt, how natural.  I hadn’t had anything even approaching domesticity in my entire life.  I had a hard time even imagining such a thing, but sitting here, eating breakfast at with her, somehow I could see my whole fucking life being like this.  I shook the thought off.  I was getting dangerously content with this way too fast… When I was finished eating, I slid my plate away and said, “You’re not bad at that.”

“What? Eggs and bacon?” she arched an eyebrow, “I’m going to assume you don’t have much experience with cooking if you’re impressed by eggs and bacon…”

I shrugged, “It’s not really my thing.  I’ve got a hot plate and a coffee percolator at home.  That’s it.  Mostly I let sweaty ex-con short order cooks and old Russian lady mobsters do my real cooking for me.”

She laughed, a delighted unforced thing that seemed to radiate light, “It’s a wonder you’re still amongst the living.”

“My diet is the least of my worries in that area,” I took a sip of the coffee, “No offense, but generally girls like you don’t do a whole lot of cooking anyway.  Didn’t Bill have a cook while you were growing up?”

“Yes.  He still does,” she frowned thinking of her father, and I was suddenly sorry I brought him up, but she pushed past it quickly, “I learned to cook in college.  My roommate was the daughter of a gourmet chef.  She lived in Boston, and I’d go home with her some weekends.  My mother was appalled that I had learned something so bourgeois as cooking my own food.  It simply isn’t done,” she finished in an exaggerated mockery of an upper crust society woman’s voice.

I barked a laugh at that, and her grin brightened, seemingly pleased with having caused me to do so.  I sipped my coffee, glancing around, “So this is his brother’s house?”

“Yes.”

I sighed and got down to business, “And he’ll be back when?”

“No earlier than two,” she got up and poured the last of the coffee in to my mug, then began gathering up the dishes, taking to the sink where she washed them as we spoke.

“So what’s the plan here, Piper?  Now that I’m here, you run away with me instead of him?”

Her hands stilled on the plate she was washing and she looked over her shoulder at me, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Sounding like I’m just… swapping the two of you out.  I told you.  You aren’t him.”

“No I’m not. I’m taller and I smell probably smell better.  But that doesn’t mean that it all won’t come down to the same thing in the end.”

“I wouldn’t abandon you.  I wouldn’t leave you.”

“You’ve known me for less than a day, Piper…” I said softly.

She finished washing the plates and put them on the drying rack next to the sink.  Then she wiped her hands off on the dish towel and approached me slowly, her face serious.  “It doesn’t matter.  I know how I feel about you,” she said quietly.  She slid on to my lap before I could register what she was doing and kissed me again, hard.  My hands automatically went to her hips, but I could tell she wasn’t trying to start anything (I’d known her for less than a day and I could already read her better than anyone I’d ever met… what the fuck…), this was a kiss meant to reassure me, to _prove_ something.  She parted after a moment and rested her forehead on mine, “And I can tell you feel the same way, Alex,” her voice was barely a whisper, “just trust your gut…”

We sat there like that for a long moment…  I sighed.  She was right.  I felt exactly the way she said she did.  But my mind wasn’t built to just accept things.  I trusted my gut… to a point, but when it came to something like this.  I had no experience with it. I couldn't trust any fucking thing. I had to think it over, turn it around in my head.  She was asking me to go against my instincts and just accept something as insane as some crazy, powerful connection between us…  Finally, I said, “Okay…” 

I would fucking accept this for what it was, because who the fuck knew how long this would last.  Even if she was going to screw me over, I could at least enjoy this feeling for the moment.  It’s not like I had a whole lot of choices. What else was I going to do?  Leave her to Eddie?  Call Polly? 

She moved so that her head was in the crook of my neck, and wound her arms around me, and we just held one another.  I closed my eyes and just let the unfamiliar feeling of contentment wash over me. 

***

After a couple of minutes she pulled back, kissed me again softly, habitually, and then stood up.  “Let’s go upstairs.  I don’t want to risk some delivery boy or nosy neighbor walking by and seeing us through the front window,” she gestured to the window looking out over the porch.

We went up to the second floor, which was a short landing with three doors off of it, two bedrooms and a bathroom.  She led me into the larger of the two bedrooms, which was actually quite sizable.  It had a queen sized bed in it, and a couch.  There was a bathroom on the far side of the bed. She sat down on the couch and reached over into a box on the side table for a cigarette.  I produced my lighter and lit hers, then took out one of my own.  I sat down on the couch and she stretched her long legs out so they were resting on my lap.

Now it was her turn to ask questions, “How did you get here?”

“My friend loaned me her car.  It’s not exactly inconspicuous but it goes fast.”

“That’s all I’m looking for right now,” she was staring at me intently, “As for the money… My half is easy.  I can have it in no time.  As we discussed last night, it’s Eddie’s that’s the problem.”

“And you _need_ it?”

“If I didn’t _need_ it, I would’ve left long ago.  I was going to leave him a little for his trouble but…” her hand went to her bruised cheek and she set her jaw, “…fuck him.”

“So vindictive…”

“He’s lucky I’m leaving him with all his limbs…” she said quietly.

“Didn’t realize you had such a temper…”

“I don’t have a temper…” she said, indignant, “I have a passion for justice...”

I chuckled slightly at the expression on her face, then said, “And how exactly do you plan on getting his half?”

“I’ve got some ideas about that…” she said quietly, sliding her eyes to me and then away towards the door, “If things work out the way I want them to, I can have the money by tonight.”

“And then?”

“Once we have it, we can go.”

"And what about Eddie?" I frowned, "I can't see him being real happy about having to part with 'his' money..."

"He won't be," she confirmed.

"So?"

"He trusts me.  He'll let his guard down at some point.  This house is full of blunt, heavy objects," her voice was flat and calm.

I raised an eyebrow, "And he won't come after us?"

"If I hit him hard enough we'll be so far away by the time he wakes up he won't be able to."

"And his brother?"

"There are two of us, Alex," she said quietly, her eyes on mine, "And a _lot_ of blunt, heavy objects..."

"You want me to brain some innocent guy?"

"He's not Eddie, but that doesn't make him innocent," she said darkly, "Neither one of them is an angel.  And it's not like you're murdering him."

I ran a hand over my face.  This was just getting better and better.  "Okay, so the Mars brothers are knocked out, we take the money, get in my friend's car and drive?"

"Yes."

Well, that sounded way too fucking easy.... “Where to?”

“For now?  Mexico, as originally planned.  My father doesn’t have any influence there, neither does Kubra.  Larry told me he and the Mexican cartels never did get along,” she had a contemplative look in her eye, “Once we’re there, we’ll have enough to go wherever we want.”

“A place where we can actually _be_ together?  Cause _pretending_ fuckin’ wears on me, you know?  I wasted a lot of my time when I was younger trying to do it, and all it did was make me angry all the time, so these days I don’t do it if I don’t have to.  And it’s fine when I’m just,” I waved my hand, “… having fun with people who don’t matter… they’re in and out of my life, not worth risking anything for…  I don’t have relationships because that's what it would all be… concealing things… hiding all the time.  I’ve seen people do that.  It’s so _fuckin’ exhausting_ , and it almost always fucks the whole thing up.  If I was with you, I’d want to be _with_ you…”

She leaned forward and took my hand from where it was resting lightly on her leg, just above the knee, “I know.”

“What’s the end game here, Piper?  When we get out of here, where do you see us going?  What do you see us doing?  You’re escaping something you don’t want.  But me… I can’t say that my life is sunshine and daisies all the time, but I have people I care about.  If I was going to leave them forever, I would have to know it was worth it…”

She smiled at me, her thumb was tracing soft circles on the palm of my hand, “Paris…  I was there a few summers ago with Cal and my mother.  My mother was sober for once, and it was actually… it was actually a lovely trip.  People there… people there can be who they are....”

I almost felt like laughing out loud, trying to picture myself in Paris.  I was so unrelentingly fucking American it wasn’t even funny.  Joe had served in the war, and he’d told me stories about the French. All stuck up pretentious assholes according to him.  But I thought that maybe I could handle that.  Maybe as long as I was with Piper…   Jesus, I really was turning into a fucking sap…

I felt Piper’s eyes on me and I looked over at her.  She was doing that thing again, the thing she’d done in the bar, examining me with soft, fascinated eyes like I was the most intriguing thing she’d ever seen, like she was trying to memorize everything about me.  No one had ever looked at me like that before and it stirred up an entire storm of emotions in my chest that I wasn’t even a tiny bit prepared to deal with…

Before I could go any further down that particular rabbit hole, Piper moved suddenly.  Shifting her legs and leaning forward, she grabbed my face in her hands and kissed me again, letting go a low, breathy laugh that disappeared into my mouth as I opened it to allow her full access. This wasn’t like the one in the kitchen, this one was soft, sensual… this one was trying to start trouble, and I couldn’t think of any reason not to go with it.  We’d made a plan.  Maybe it was a half-assed plan, but it wasn’t like we could get anything more solid right this every second…

And at this particular moment, running was the last thing I wanted to do.  Piper’s kisses were leisurely, she was taking her time like we had forever, like she was getting to know _everything_ about me. There was heat building in my core, but I didn’t want to rush this, not like all those other girls.  Piper was different… even after last night I felt like there was more to know. I wanted to explore all of her, to learn everything about her…  I grasped her hips and shifted her so she was straddling me and I marveled at how perfect it felt.  My left hand moved up to tangle in the blonde curls at the nape of her neck, angling the kiss even deeper, while my right slowly untucked her shirt and made its way underneath… she sucked in a breath as my fingers skimmed along the skin of her midsection and I grinned against her mouth as I started moving up and up until I hit the underside of her bra and…

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom crashed open… “PIPER???” yelled an angry male voice, “What the _fuck_ is going on Piper _?!_ ”

We both froze. Piper grimaced and breathed, "Eddie..."

My eyes widened as I looked over her shoulder at the angry asshole in the doorway...  _Oh shit..._


	11. Second Hand Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Piper reveals new layers...

“What _the FUCK_ is going on Piper!?”

The angry voice of Eddie Mars, Piper’s former family chauffeur and current lover (well, not most current… I tried to suppress a grin at that thought) tore through the room again.  This time Piper pushed herself off my lap as though she’d been jabbed with a cattle prod. I swore profusely under my breath and looked over at her.  She wasn't facing Eddie full on yet and she looked surprisingly calm... She was still slightly breathless from our kiss, her cheeks flushed, her full lips faintly swollen, when she met my eyes. 

She gave me a heavily significant look that I couldn’t quite catch the full meaning of, one side of her mouth hitching in the slightest of smiles, before her expression changed on a dime from one of conspiratorial amusement to one of terror.  Before I could fully register what was happening, her face had rearranged itself into the very picture of womanly distress and she was crying as though she’d turned on a faucet. 

I was staring at her, too stunned to fully react… and then her left hand reared back and she slapped me across the right side of my face, knocking my glasses askew.  The impact looked worse than it was: she’d angled her hand in a particular way and she’d been holding back, but considering the fact that my face still wasn’t fully recovered from Mendez’s little gift, it hurt like a bitch anyway.  “Jesus _fuck_!” I spat before I could stop myself, raising my hand to my face.

“Get the hell away from me!” she cried, her whole body shaking as she scrambled shakily away from me until she was huddling on the far side of the couch, her voice high and tremulous, the perfect picture of a damsel in distress.  It wasn’t _her_ voice, nothing about this was her.  But looking at her in that moment I almost would’ve believed it… her fucking acting would've given Katharine Hepburn a run for her money.

I frowned at her, confused, trying to catch up with what was going on, why she was doing this… and then she   _fucking winked at me_ , before turning to face Eddie who was striding across the room with what I’m sure he believed was manly authority.  I had only seen the chauffeur from a distance. He was tall and broad, with a pug nose, and his eyes were already transitioning from blazing anger and confusion to protective concern as he approached the couch.  Piper sprang up and threw herself into his arms, weeping and shaking.

I thought about the bruises on her face and on her midsection and wanted to kick this guy’s ass, but it was becoming clear that Piper had some sort of plan here, and as much as it made me sick to see her hanging on him, I decided to let her play this shit out… even if it meant the whole left side of my face was throbbing and I was pretty sure the cut over my eye had re-opened. 

“Eddie,” she said tremulously in a voice I barely recognized as hers, “… oh thank God you’re here… I was so.. she was…’

“It’s okay, baby…” he said, soothingly condescending, like she was five. I scowled at him, working overtime to keep my mouth shut, figuring anything I would say would fuck up the plan.  “It’s okay… I’ll make sure this fucking bitch doesn’t have a chance to hurt you anymore…”  He freed one hand from behind her back, reached into his waistband... and pulled out a .45 which he proceeded to point it at my face.  Well, fuck… this had escalated quickly.

Piper looked down at the gun and a flash of dismay colored expression… along with something that looked a lot like annoyed exasperation. I almost laughed.  I had a gun pointed at my head and _she_ was the one who looked put out.  “You can’t…” she blurted out, almost forgetting to add the quaver to her voice.  Eddie looked at her, confused, “…you can’t she…”  (I could almost see her gears shifting as she spoke), she leaned towards him, lowered her voice, “Kubra sent her…”

Eddie’s eyes widened, “What?” he looked at me confused, then back at Piper, “A woman??”

“Not to kill us, just to… to find me… He thought she’d be less suspicious… we can’t… we can’t kill her.  If we kill one of Kubra’s people he’ll never stop chasing us… we have to get out of here…”

“Baby…”

“We have to get the money and get out…”

Now he frowned at her, his Neanderthal brain finally cottoning on to something being a little off, “But… it’ll take me a couple hours to get my half… what the hell are we supposed to do with her in the meantime…”

Piper looked at me, then back at him, "I have an idea..."

**

 “This is uncomfortable,” I grumbled.

“I know, Alex.  I’m sorry," Piper was sitting on the couch where we’d been making out before Eddie had so rudely interrupted.  I was tied to a hard backed dining room chair not far away.  Eddie had brought it up before he’d left and used some rope from the garage to secure me to it.  Evidently the shithead had been a sailor or something during the fucking war, because his knots were excellent. There was enough give that I wasn't losing all feeling in my hands, but I wasn't going to be slipping out of them anytime soon.  He'd been gone about ten minutes.  He’d given Piper with a gun, the assurance she would be fine and an uncomfortably sloppy and enthusiastic kiss before going to get his half of the money from wherever it was. 

“That was really the _only_ way you could think of to handle that shit?” I asked, still pretty sore about having been hit. Again.

“I had to think fast.  Did you want him killing us both?  Or beating the shit out of me? Because that’s what he would’ve done if he’d thought I was a willing participant…”

“I’d have fucking killed him if he’d tried…” I growled, a little surprised at exactly how much I meant it.

Her eyes softened for just a moment as they locked with mine, and her voice was quiet and serious as she said, “I know you would have.”  Then, her eyes slid away, back towards the door of the bedroom, and in the next breath her voice turned hard, matter of fact, “But then we’d have lost his half of the money, and that would’ve defeated the whole purpose.  I’ve worked hard to get here.  I can’t give it up now, when I’m so close…”

I examined her face closely. The look on it was as hard and shrewd as her voice, her blue eyes like steel. I frowned and spoke slowly, choosing my words deliberately, “So this whole thing… it provided you with a _very_ convenient opportunity to light a fire under his ass and convince him to retrieve his half of the money…”

Piper turned to me, holding my gaze for a moment before her eyes skirted away again, towards the window behind me, her expression suddenly opaque, “Yes,” she said quietly, “it did.”

My brow furrowed.  Something in her tone, in the way she was suddenly refusing to meet my eyes… Holy shit… Realization dawned suddenly. The instinct to smack myself in the fucking forehead was so strong that my right arm jerked against the ropes binding my arms behind me, “Are you _fucking kidding me?”_ I spat.  I wasn’t sure whether I was more upset at her for letting her do this to me or at myself for being so stupid and short sighted that I allowed it to be done…

She exhaled sharply, closing her eyes, “Alex…”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming…”

“Alex…” she said again, a note of pleading in her voice, finally turning to look at me.  Her eyes had gone soft again, I could see she was upset… or at least she was fucking _acting_  upset…

“No wait, I _did_ see this coming!  I should’ve _fucking known_ … Jesus fucking Christ, you are _SUCH_ a clever asshole...”  I glared at her, “You _knew_ he was coming back when he did… You _knew_ he would walk in on us…”

“I didn’t know for certain…”

“God damn it, I am such a moron!”

“It was the best way to get him to do what we needed him to…”

“What _we_ needed him to?  Don’t you mean what _you_ needed him to??”

She was crouched down in front of me.  “Alex, we’re still in this together.  We’re still a team… I just…”  Her eyes were wide, and open and filled with unshed tears.  She looked so _fucking_ hurt that I wasn’t trusting her. 

“You just _what???_ You were just hoping I wouldn’t figure it out, so that’d be easier to just leave me here tied to a _fucking chair_??  So that I wouldn’t _protest_ while you were busy stabbing me in the _back_?”  Jesus, what was wrong with me?  Why had I trusted her…

“No!  That’s not what I was planning… I just… I’m not used to having a partner I can trust… ”

“ _YOU_ didn’t trust _ME_?  Oh that's spectacular!  You looked at me with those big blue eyes and told me that we were connected and you didn’t _trust_ me enough to tell me that you were going to _fucking hit me and get a gun pointed in my face_ …”

"I fucked up, I’m sorry.  I did trust you I’m just… " her eyes were wide and wet, and her voice had just the slightest quaver to it, but she was trying to keep it calm, controlled.  "I thought if I told you the plan you might try to talk me out of it… and I wasn’t sure exactly how it would play out… I needed to stay flexible, I needed you to look surprised… I couldn’t have him suspecting anything...”

Her eyes were boring in to mine, and I could feel myself sinking into them.  She was so close, and I could feel that fucking magnetic pull between us still, smell her perfume and I _wanted_ to believe her.  I mean… it’s not like her plan _hadn’t_ worked… and it’s not like I wouldn’t have tried to talk her out of something that seemed so risky (what was to stop Eddie from trying to kill me?).  And she looked so hurt and distressed and…

No... no no no.  Fuck that...  I had to stop being such a naive asshole...  I had to stop letting her talk me in to trusting her...  She'd done that earlier and look where that had gotten me...  I was just one in a long line...  Larry and Eddie and who knew how many had come before them? I had to force myself to ignore my stupid fucking heart, which was aching so badly I felt like it was going to stop altogether. All the anger and hurt and betrayal I felt was in my voice when I spat, low and dangerous, "You _fucked_ me in order to _fucking use me_ , and now that I've served my purpose... God you are such a manipulative _bitch_..."

She flinched back as though I'd hit her, head turning towards the right, refusing to meet my eyes. She was crouching right in front of me, she'd been on the brink of leaning towards me, and she was frozen now. The longer she stayed silent, the heavier the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach got... Jesus... she wouldn't look at me... I was right... even as I'd said it I was hoping that it wasn't true but...

And then, suddenly, her head whipped around to face me again. Her blue eyes flared. She stood up slightly and grabbed me by my shoulders.  She literally shook me once as hard as she could considering my arms were still tied behind the fucking chair.  When she spoke, her voice was practically trembling, but this time it wasn't because she was distressed, it was because she was just barely containing her temper, and with every word the control started to drop, until by the time she was done, she was yelling, "I _made love_ to you because that's what I _wanted_ to do you _stupid_ stubborn **_asshole_**!"

I'd had my mouth open to spit out another wounded angry snarky motherfucker comeback at her but it caught in my throat... My eyes were wide, my jaw was hanging open. I was suddenly incapable of doing anything but staring at her.

The tears that had been threatening to fall were finally flowing out of the corners of her eyes, but she was angry now.  Really fucking angry. All pretense of refined politeness and control were gone. I thought I'd seen about every side of her but this... this was new... and it was mildly terrifying.

She still had her hands on my shoulders, and she was leaning forward, right in my face, still holding my gaze with her own which was fucking intense and filled with a hurricane of emotional chaos. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself a little, probably so she wouldn't just be screaming in my face.

"I never once _fucked_ Larry," she said, her voice was lower now, less out of control, but the anger was still vibrating through it as she spoke, barely contained, "The only reason I did anything more than _listlessly grope_ Eddie was because I was desperate, because Kubra had _tortured_ Larry and thrown him in front of a fucking train and I _had to get out_ before he did the same or worse to me... The _promise_ of sex is free, Alex, and I suppose you wouldn't know, but men are such horrible _fools_ for it. And that's all I gave either of them until I was backed into a corner. I _keep_ trying to fucking tell you you're different but your gorgeous cynical ass won't just let go and believe me!

"I get that you don't want to trust me but we don't have a whole lot of time here before Eddie comes back with that money and I need to know you're on my fucking side because that's sure as hell where I want you to be for the forseeable future..." Her shoulders sagged as she finished speaking, and the anger drained as fast as it had come, leaving her looking exhausted...

She dropped her head into the crook of my neck and put her arms around my shoulders pulling us close. I felt her tears against my skin. She let out a long, tired sigh. "Do you have any idea how tiring it is to pretend to be something you aren't all the time?"

I tilted my head as much as I could, kissing her head gently, drawing in a breath, "Yeah kid," I said softly, "I think I've got some idea..."

"Everyone wants me to _be_ what they need me to be _for their purposes_. And you, you don't _expect_ me to be anything but myself... But unfortunately for you my true self is a giant mess with serious trust issues. And the real me gets flustered and insecure and doesn't trust my own feelings. So yes. I didn't tell you the whole plan and I'm sorry...but I care about you."

She was speaking so softly now that if she hadn't been tucked right under my ear, I don't think I would've heard her, "I've been so numb for so long and when it was like when I saw you, when I talked to you, it was like... like color came back into the world and I actually felt something you know? And I know it doesn't make any sense and it sounds like such stupid sentimental Hollywood bullshit but... I know you felt it too and..." she trailed off.  She was basically sitting in my lap now, holding me even closer, burrowing even more tightly  into my neck.

I closed my eyes and breathed her scent in, let her words wash over me. Of course I felt the same fucking way. At some point in the last day and a half, I had transformed a fucking lovesick moron...  "Piper..."

She lifted her head and took my face in her hands and just looked into my eyes.

Normally I could smell bullshit like a shark smelled blood.  It was part of why I was good at my job, part of why I was so fucking cynical about everything and everyone.  But Piper scrambled up my senses.  When she was this near to me, when she was looking at me the way she was looking at me, those wide open blue eyes so full of innocence and melancholy, making her look about ten years older than she actually was, when her hands were on my face and her lips were mere inches from mine… it was like my instincts were all short circuiting, like my common sense had hung up an “Out to Lunch” sign and retired for good…

She looked so fucking sincere.

However, I had seen her look at Eddie like that too, had seen it just an hour ago when she’d kissed him like there was no tomorrow right before he left.  She was a master manipulator, but I couldn’t really judge because I had my own skills in that area as well… But... I knew that no matter how much I manipulated some people, there were people I truly cared about and would never do that to without good reason... and I had to think that she did too...

I knew even as she had spoken that she might be playing me, that I might be just another lover she was going to use for what she needed and then discard like she intended to do to Eddie. After all she had gotten this far, and it was really unlikely she would give it all up now... She had defied her powerful father, she had risked her life by stealing from Kubra Balik… fucking over a broke private detective shouldn't have made a dent in her clearly pretty flexible conscience.

Even though I knew all of this, I found myself doing the same thing I'd done every time I'd had doubts about her since I met her.  I was drowning in those eyes, craving her touch, letting her words convince me, knowing that I would do just about _anything_ to keep her safe and keep her with me.  I knew that there was no universe where I would ever leave her to deal with Eddie alone…  And maybe that made me a chump, but I couldn't stop myself.

I let go a soft, frustrated noise, and she read it as exactly what it was, a sort of surrender.  I flashed her a half smirk, "So you think I'm gorgeous?" I asked quietly. 

Her smile unfurled itself, the one that looked like it was made of fucking sunshine. She was leaning forward to kiss me when we heard the front door open and heavy footsteps heading our way before either of us had a chance to say anything more. She stood up abruptly and turned towards the side table by the bed.  She opened the drawer, rummaged around for a second and then pulled a something out.  She turned back towards me and leaned close, kissing me softly on the cheek as she slid her hands around my back, slipping whatever she'd retrieved from the drawer into my hands.  I gave her a confused look.  She muttered, "I'd do it myself but there's not enough time..." 

I turned it over in my hands and almost dropped it as the edge of a blade cut my finger shallowly. Fuck. She'd handed me a four inch pocket knife so I could cut myself free. I flipped it over in my hand, trying to work it under the rope.

She straightened up, ran one hand over her face and the other through her hair, and turned towards the bedroom door just as it opened.  Eddie came in, holding a large duffel bag. She smiled brightly, the beauty queen one that was all teeth that didn’t reach her eyes, completely different from the one she'd turned on for me just seconds ago.  She walked over to him and tried to pull him into an embrace, which made me feel a little like I was going to be sick. “Baby…”

Eddie slipped her grasp and wouldn’t meet her eyes.  He threw the duffel bag into the corner and focused on a point somewhere over her right shoulder, “Sorry about this, doll…” he said, not sounding nearly as sincere as Piper had when she apologized to me.

Piper’s brows knit together, “Sorry about what?  Eddie...”

Eddie didn't bother to elaborate as he turned his hangdog gaze back towards the bedroom door.  Piper followed his eyes…

We both looked over just as George Mendez stepped into the room, followed closely by Aydin.  Piper's eyes went wide and I saw a look of unguarded fear flash across it before she managed to smother it.  I tried to suppress my own reaction, plastering on a scowl that was probably trying way too hard. Mendez  surveyed the scene in front of him, a slow, cruel smile unfurling itself from underneath his mustache.

“Well, well, well…” he drawled, sounding as smug as the cat that painfully disemboweled the canary, “ lookit here… Why, it's my two best gals all cozied up in the same place…  This here is gonna be even more fun than I thought…”


	12. Raw Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which shit gets real...

With lightning speed, Piper rounded on Mars, “Eddie you stupid _FUCKING idiot_ …” Piper was in an odd place between anger and panic, but anger was _definitely_ winning right now.  That temper she'd flashed at me a few minutes ago was on full display.  She barely even seemed to notice Mendez and Aydin crowding into the room.  I was twitching to move, to _do_ something to protect her or back her up, but I was being seriously limited by the fact that I was still tied a _fucking_ chair.

Piper had slipped me the pocket knife and made sure it was open, but the angle was awkward and the rope they’d used to bind me wasn't exactly easy to get purchase on.  I was trying to keep my breathing under control, trying desperately to stay calm, figure a way out of this fucking quagmire as I sawed desperately as fast as I could.  My blood felt like it was being replaced entirely with adrenaline and fear, which helped me to ignore the pain. 

Piper was in Eddie’s face now, "You _called_ Kubra??"

Eddie still wasn't looking at her.  Looking at them right now, Piper blazing with rage and Eddie shrinking into himself, I couldn't imagine him ever having the balls to hit her. But I remembered the look on his face when he'd burst in and caught us together.  t had been all murderous rage. I imagined when they were both angry, their fights would've given a Rocky Marciano brawl a run for its money. 

"I'm sorry, Piper," he muttered, the manly confidence that had filled his voice before he left for the money replaced with stuttering hesitance, "I... look, this is dangerous... you know?  I've been thinkin' about it and I have... I can't just run forever... And... and Kubra won't hurt you, he just... he said he just wants his money back.  he just..."

"What kind of a _moron_ are you???  This is not a fucking radio play, you quivering spineless pile of horse shit...  Kubra isn't just going to _smack me across the face_ a few times and call it even!  You _know_ what happened to Larry..."

"The papers say that Bloom...  that his death was an accident..."

Piper made a sound of frustration that was somewhere between a scream and a groan, "Oh my God, _Karl_ talked you into this didn't he?" it took me a minute to recall that Karl was Eddie's brother... "That's why he didn't come back with you earlier!  _He_ told you to do this..."

"He... he just said that maybe... maybe you... maybe you weren't on the level... that you were... that you were just using me..."  Despite the situation, I almost laughed.  Well, at least Eddie's brother had half a fucking brain.  Piper, on the other hand, was so enraged she was evidently beyond seeing the irony of the situation.

"Oh, and I suppose the prospect of Kubra paying you to tell him where I was OR that _you'd_ get to keep some of that money so Karl can pay off his debts to the _FUCKING_ whorehouse down the street has _NOTHING_ to do with it???"

Mendez was watching this exchange with unbridled delight, like this was the most entertaining thing he'd seen since in a while.  His was the face of a man who had all the time in the world...  I didn't like the thought of Mendez having all the time in the world

Before Eddie could come up with another lame excuse for his double cross, Piper _punched_ him in the face, hard, surprising him.  She wasn't holding back like she did when she hit me with a half strength open handed slap.  His head whipped to the side with an almost audible snap.  "God _damn_ you," she spat, then she shoved him roughly with both hands, and he went crashing over the ottoman behind him and fell on his ass. "We," her eyes darted to me then back again, "were so _fucking_ close to getting out of here…”  

“Yeah well apparently Eddie here thought what you were offering wasn’t quite enough to make his continued assistance worth it, honey,” Mendez finally cut in, scoffing, “Although can’t say I agree with him… I'm sure you could do _a lot_ of things to properly repay a guy for his help.  I mean, your rack ain't much to write home about, but you've got such a nice ass…”

She spun on him, still maintaining the anger, “And what were _you_ offering exactly?”

“Well, we told him we were gonna let him keep half the money you'd given him, and promised him that Mr. Balik would leave him alone...” Mendez grinned, eyes glinting, “...but we’re a bunch of fuckin' liars, and he’s a fuckin' dupe, so…” 

Mars, the poor sap, had just pulled himself up from being pushed over and had a hand on the side of his face that Piper had hit him. It took him half a second to register what Mendez had said.  He looked up at Mendez, confusion flashing through his eyes, “What…?”

He didn’t have a chance to say anything else before Aydin pulled out his piece out of his jacket. It was a silver plated Colt .45 with a long heavy silencer attached. Aydin raised it and put a bullet in first Eddie's left knee, then in his right. Mars let out a bloodcurdling scream and collapsed, swearing and grabbing at his knees, making wounded animal noises that did nothing to help me with my whole “keeping calm while trying to saw through my bindings” situation. 

Piper screamed when Aydin shot Mars, all of the burning fury of just a moment ago dissipating like smoke, but then almost immediately she went silent, hugging herself and shaking and suddenly looking like a scared little girl. All the color had drained from her face and her eyes were darting from Mendez to Mars and back as Mendez took two steps over and crouched down next to the driver.  Eddie's teeth were gritted as he tried to swallow his own screams, tears rolling unbidden down his cheeks.  Mendez grabbed his face as he had grabbed mine in the hallway outside my office, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

He forced Mars to look up at him, “Thanks for the information, Eddie, my boy, really. Mr. Balik truly appreciated it..." he said, his tone casual, a parody of friendliness,  “But what we have here is a timing issue...  See this bitch disappeared two and a half fuckin' weeks ago.  Two and a half fuckin' weeks that Mr. Balik's spent lookin' for her.  That's a lot of time, a lotta resources better spent elsewhere, y'know?  He's a busy man, gotta lotta irons in the fire... _You've_ not only known where she was this whole but you helped her pretty blonde ass get out of town undetected... "

Despite the immense amount of pain he was in, Eddie somehow managed to concentrate enough to speak, "Mr. Mendez... puh-please, I... I'm sorry..."

Mendez continued as though he hadn't spoken, "I have a helpful hint for you: when a bitch runs off with fifty thousand of Mr. Balik’s dollars,  you really shouldn’t help her get outta town and stay outta sight…  It’s just not good business, y’know?”  His smile tilted unpleasantly as his eyes moved up from Eddie's face to Piper... and then from Piper to me.  He kept his gaze on me as he spoke, his eyes full of dark unspoken threats that sent a chill down my spine.  It took everything to keep my scowl in place, to keep sawing at the fucking ropes on my wrists.  I couldn't give him the satisfaction of reacting.  "Especially since it looks a lot like she dropped your limp dick like a fuckin' hot rock the minute she saw a pair of squeezable tits bounce into town..."

Eddie turned his wet eyes to Piper.  "Nuh-no..." his voice was shot through with pain and confusion and despair, he could barely form coherent words... "she... she didn't... she wouldn't do that to me... that, that bitch... that bitch is... she doesn't even know her..."

Amusement flashed across Mendez's face as he turned from me back to the man bleeding in front of him, "Aw fuck, Eddie, your mama didn't put even the minimum amount of effort into you did she?  Either that or you're head is thicker'n it looks..." he barked a laugh, "I'm really just puttin' you outta your misery here, you poor fuckin' moron..."  Then he stood up and kicked Mars squarely in his pulped knee, causing the man to make a truly horrifying high pitched keening sound.  He nodded at Aydin.  Aydin’s .45 coughed a third time, and Mars’s screams cut off abruptly, dropping the room into a sudden, horrible silence.   

A spike of pure, primitive fear shot straight down my spine and I bit back the urge to cry out.  I squeezed my eyes shut, took a half dozen deep breaths.  I couldn't let myself panic. Couldn't let Mendez get to me.  There had to be a way out of this.  There had to be a way to play this...  And I _had_ to concentrate on figuring it out, I _had_ to keep myself calm, collected... couldn't let myself spin out... especially since, when I opened my eyes, my heart rate finally calming, Mendez was turning his attention to Piper.

I had to admire her fucking moxie.  Instead of causing her to slide even deeper into hysteria, the bullet that had silenced Eddie Mars forever seemed to galvanize her.  She was still hugging herself, but as Mendez stood and moved towards her, she stood up straighter.  She pushed the distress off her face and the panic out of her eyes, replacing them with a mask of cool defiance.  Just before she turned to Mendez, she flicked her eyes to me, and I could see, just for a split second, how scared she still was.  I tried my best to convey to her that we could find a way out of this. Then she turned back to him.  They were facing each other in profile about four feet in front of me.

Aydin was still near the door, his gun held in his hand but pointed at the floor.  He caught my eye as well and gave me an amiable little nod, like we were just hanging out at the bar, reminding me that I hadn’t been forgotten. 

“As for you, Piper darlin’," he ran his knuckle down the side of her face, a parody of a tender gesture, "you’ve been a bad, _baaad_ girl…” his voice was low, the hint of cruelty that never seemed to truly leave it becoming more prominent with every word, “I would’ve thought your mommy and daddy woulda taught you not to take things that didn’t belong to you…”

“My father perfected the art of taking things that don’t belong to him,” Piper spat back, her tone defiant and haughty, her chin held high, “He taught me everything I know…”

“If that was the case, he’d have taught you how not to get caught,” Mendez leaned towards her, entering her personal space, lowering his voice, “Mr. Balik told us we couldn’t touch you, you know… leastways not the way I’d like to…” Mendez smiled an ugly smile, "although I do have to make sure you aren't... armed..." he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around....

Then he frisked her like he was a cop, and taking a long moment to grope her breasts so thoroughly that by the time he was done even Aydin, normally unflappable, was grimacing in dismay.  Piper kept her eyes open and fixed on a spot on the wall, trying not to  give him the satisfaction of reacting, but she was breathing hard and when he finally turned her back around to face him, I could see her trying desperately to hold back tears, her blue eyes full of humiliation, anger, fear and defiance in equal measures.

Bile was rising in my throat and I nearly threw up.  It had taken every ounce of control I had to contain my outward reaction.  If I reacted, I would only make it worse.  Kubra had told him not to hurt her.  This was just Mendez being the sociopathic pile of inhuman slime he was, asserting his power over someone who couldn't fight back. I had to keep my cool, had to contain the furious anger that was building up in my brain at the sight of him touching her at all, let alone doing what he was doing.  There was nothing I could do until the fucking ropes were off...

Mendez leered at her, "Well, no knives hidden in there..." he said, taking a step back, putting his hands in his pockets.  Piper couldn't contain the audible sigh of relief that escaped her lips when it became clear he wasn't going to touch her again.  “Oh I wouldn’t be too relieved yet, darlin'.  You stole from Mr. Balik and like I told this fuckin' meat bag," he reached back with one foot and kicked Eddie's dead body in the stomach, "Mr. Balik had to spend a lotta time and resources comin’ to find you. You pissed him off good enough that he’s planning on giving you a _private lesson_ in what happens to people who steal from him… you’re gonna _wish_ he’d let me have my way…”  he raised his eyebrows, "Hell, he still might give me a turn... although after he's done with you, I ain't sure I'd want anywhere near you anymore..."

His eye bored into hers for another long moment.  To her credit, Piper didn’t falter, just stared defiantly back at him, even though if she had any sense, she was terrified.  Then, abruptly he turned his head towards me, “Buuuuut... it ain’t like I don’t get to have any fun at all…”  He gestured to Aydin, who stepped forward until he was right next to Piper, the gun now trained on her. 

Once he was sure Aydin had control over Piper, Mendez started advancing on me.  Piper had remained as stoic and cool as possible while he was fucking with her, but _now_ there was a flash of sudden fear on her face.  "No..." it burst out of her suddenly, almost like she hadn't expected it, and it seemed to surprise her as much as anyone else.  Mendez actually stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"Oh _fuck_ , hot tits... don't tell me you're actually fuckin' _attached_ to this bitch?"  Mendez scoffed, "Jesus, I knew Mars was a fuckin' idiot, always lettin' his dick do the thinkin' for him, but you seemed smarter than that.  Believe me, honey, I'm doin' you a favor.  Vause here goes through pretty little finishing school socialites like other people go through fuckin' toilet paper.... you ain't any more special to her than any of them..."

" _Fuck_ you, you asshole..." I growled, not daring to look at Piper to see what effect his words had had on her.  The problem wasn't that he was lying, it was that he was telling the fucking truth, at least about the way I never let myself get attached...

Mendez, looked back at me and started coming towards me again.  The fucker actually licked his god damn lips.  “Awwww, Vause. Still got a fuckin' dirty mouth on ya. Can't say I'm surprised to see you here... you never did have the sense to know when to stay the fuck out of other people's business... I _warned_ you, didn’t I?  I told you what’d happen if you kept sniffin’ around… and yet here you are… barking up this blonde bitch’s tree like the shaggy fuckin’ dog you are…” 

Mendez stood towering over me, practically rubbing his hands together, “Don’t feel bad for _her_ , darlin’…  shit I'm doin' you as big a favor as I'm doin' her.  Little Miss Chapman’s damaged goods.  Fucks anything on two legs might help her get what she wants.  Bloom, Mars… they’re just the fuckin’ tip of the iceberg.  I’m savin’ you a lot of trouble.  Least with me, you _know_ you’re gonna get fucked in the ass…" he laughed at his clever little 'joke', "Y'know the problem with you dykes is, you're all just so fuckin' confused... you just need someone to show you how things're _meant_ to be done..."

Jesus Christ on a fucking cross, this bastard…  he was actually going to fucking do it…  he leaned down, obviously relishing the fact that my hands and feet were bound to a chair.  His hand gripped my face hard enough that he was probably leaving  a bruise and he lowered his ugly mug towards me...

Now or never…

I waited until he was as close as he could get without actually touching me, until I could practically feel his fucking mustache brush my lips as I spoke, "Hey, Mendez?" I said, forcing my voice to sound breathy... almost seductive...

He seemed surprised I'd spoken, wary of the tone, "Yeah?"

"Wanna hear a secret?" I lowered my voice even further.  Barely audible... 

His head moved forward on instinct, cocking his ear towards my mouth to try to hear better... "What?"

"You're a pathetic excuse for a man..." I whispered, "...and my hands are free..."

His brow furrowed, "Wha..."  before he could say anything more, I sank my teeth into his earlobe as hard as I could.

He released his grip on my chin, recoiling and crying out, "WHAT THE FUCK!" hands flying to his ear which was now bleeding profusely.  I spat the little piece of earlobe I'd just bitten off in his face, then I drew my head back and slammed it forward in one sudden swift movement, the hard part of my incredibly thick skull cracking with all the force I could muster into the bridge of nose.  There was a sickening crunching sound and his whole body went whipping backwards, his hands flying from his ear to his face, blood seeping between his fingers. 

" _You stupid, smug motherfucker_!" I roared.  He’d always underestimated me and my fighting abilities.

I risked a quick glance at Piper. Aydin had been shocked by my sudden move, and Piper had taken the opportunity to make a grab for his gun.  Aydin was fast, but Piper was no slouch. She was nearly as tall as him, and the adrenaline rush and her own determination, along with the fact that she’d surprised him, meant that, for the  moment, she was giving him a run for his money.  But Aydin was a professional, and while I didn’t want to count Piper out, I also didn’t want to give him enough time to gain the upper hand.

Mendez was down on his knees directly in front of me, bellowing in pain, “God fucking damn it you motherfucking piece of shit fucking bitch!”  He hadn't gotten it together enough that he could retaliate and I didn't plan to give him the chance...

I pulled my hands out from behind me and quickly sliced through the ropes securing my legs.  It was a hell of a lot easier to cut through the fucking ropes from a proper angle with the adrenaline rushing through me.  As soon as my legs were free, I sprang out of the chair, ramming into Mendez’s already pulped face with my shoulder, driving us both to the ground.  He was crying out in pain and anger, spewing out incoherent threats and insults. 

...but I barely heard any of it.  All I heard was the rush of my own blood as adrenaline poured through me.  All I saw was red, rage flooding through my brain like a dam had been busted... the image of him leering at Piper, of him groping her, kept flashing behind my eyes...  all I wanted at that moment was to hurt him as badly as I possibly could.  My coherent thoughts had left the building, everything was pure primal instinct. 

I was on top of him now, I drove my right knee as hard as I could into his balls, taking a moment to enjoy the high pitched squeal that escaped his lungs before I crashed the same knee on to his chest to keep him in place, stunning him and forcing the oxygen out of his lungs.  I stabbed the pocket knife still held in my left hand through the meat of his right wrist so hard that the point went clean through to the carpet underneath, and he howled like a wounded animal.

" _FUCK_..." I spat, in a voice I barely recognized as my own... I hauled back with my right fist and punched him hard in the side of the face, "... ** _YOU_**!!!"  Another bellow of pain escaped him. “ _YOU fuckin’ piece of shit_!” I snarled, punching him again in the center of his face.  This time I hit him so hard that I was almost sure I could feel something in my own hand crack, but the pain barely penetrated the haze in my head...

I was pulling my fist back to hit him again when there was a sound like a cough... and all of a sudden I felt like I’d been hit in the left shoulder with a fucking jackhammer. The pain was immediate and excruciating, and it cut through the adrenalized fury I'd been caught up in.  I went toppling back, off of Mendez, my right hand (covered in blood, my own and his) flying instinctively up to where I’d been shot.

Gritting my teeth, I turned my head and saw Aydin, a flowering bruise on his right cheek and a messy set of scratches on his left, pointing his gun at me. Behind him I saw Piper on the floor, trying to get up, one hand on her head.  Aydin had probably knocked her down and then immediately turned his attention to me and his boss.  I rolled over on to my stomach with a groan and braced my right hand on the floor, trying to get my legs under me, trying to stand up.  Aydin’s gun coughed again.  This time the sledgehammer came down on left side of my back.  I collapsed back to the floor, gasping at the sensation, my knees going out from under me.

Aydin had the gun trained on me and was kneeling next to Mendez, who wasn't moving.  I made another feeble attempt to get up, scrabbling weakly against the floor with my good arm even as I felt the pain from my fresh wounds start to scatter the last of the adrenaline that had carried me through the fight... Jesus fuck... it'd been so long since I had been shot I'd almost forgot how much it fucking hurt.  Aydin frowned, looking genuinely dismayed, “Fuck, Vause, you know I always liked you…” he lifted the gun and pointed it at my head, “Stay down or I’ll have to put you down…”

I grimaced, still struggling to rise... I wasn't going to just lie here and fucking _bleed_ to _death_ when Piper needed me. Aydin was right in front of me, blocking my view of the rest of the room.  I couldn't see Piper, but I knew she was there and I couldn't leave her alone with him... Aydin wasn't Mendez but he was still a killer. 

He sighed heavily, "Vause, damn it..." I saw his finger tense on the trigger.

I looked up, met his eyes, “You… you don’t have to do this, Aydin…”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, “I do…”

I closed my eyes, hoping I was at least distracting him enough that Piper could get the fuck out of here. I felt a pang of regret that I'd never really had a chance to tell her how I felt about her, never actually _said_ the fucking words....  And then the gun coughed again... 

...it felt like I'd been hit in the head with a brick...

...the world went dark…

***

Nicky had always said a beautiful woman would be the death of me.  God damn it I hated it when she was right.


	13. The Big Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Piper makes a difficult decision

I'd never put much thought into the afterlife.  God’s fervent disciples had never been particularly kind to me, so I’d rather petulantly decided to say fuck it and ignore the shit out of them. God didn’t see fit to believe in me, so I wouldn’t believe in Him either.

When my mom died, Uncle Joe had told me she’d gone to a better place. I was an angry, dumbass 18 year old kid so I ignored him and spent a year drinking and floating in and out of lock up until he and Red had finally managed to slap some sense into me. After I was done being pissed, I found myself hoping that my mom really was in a better place. If anyone deserved it, it was her.

I always figured I’d done way too much stupid shit to get my own ticket punched to heaven.  If there was any sort of _after_ out there for me I assumed it was all lakes of fire and pushing stones up hills for eternity...  not because I was a girl who liked fucking other girls, but because I was an asshole and had no problem letting people know it.

So here I was, finally facing death, and all there was... was darkness… it was kind of disappointing.  

Slowly, other sensations started to make themselves felt… there was… pain… darkness and pain… god damn it… pain?  _Really?_   I thought the whole point of being fucking _dead_ was to stop feeling pain… false fucking advertising… evidently even death wasn’t all it was cracked up to be…

The pain was getting more intense… it was coming from… where the fuck was it coming from?  I was so disoriented… My shoulder…?  Yeah, that was it… it was a dull throb coming from my shoulder… and… from somewhere in my midsection.  And... my head… there was a whole fuckton of pain in my head…

And there was something else… it felt like… shaking…. Someone was shaking me… why the fuck was someone shaking me?  I was just lying here trying to die in peace and they wouldn't stop with the God damn shaking…

A voice cut into the silence… it sounded like it was coming from far away, “Alex…”  Oh hey… that’s my name … there was urgency in the voice, concern… “Alex… come on babe wake up…” A woman’s voice.  A woman’s voice I recognized... it was one of the most pleasant sounds I’d ever heard… lilting and airy even if it was pretty distressed… and it caressed the syllables of my name with an odd sort of reverence… Piper… it was Piper’s voice…

“God damn it Vause, I can’t haul your tall ass out to the car without you helping at least a little… _wake the fuck up_ …” there was still an undertone of worry, but now she was pissed.

I felt my lips curling into a smile, “You’re the rudest fucking angel ever…” I muttered… my own voice sounded raspy and slurred, like it was coming from a long distance away.

There was an audible sigh of relief, “Oh thank Christ…” And then I felt someone’s arms around me, lifting me up and holding me tightly, and it caused the pain to ramp up a bit... well, a lot... but for the moment I didn’t care, because it felt really fucking good to be held…  I felt a head sink into the crook of my neck, someone’s tears damp on my skin.

I frowned… something about the way this was making me feel, about the sound of her choking back a sob of relief, the feel of her breath, the smell of her near me…  I wasn’t dead.  _Jesus fuck_... I wasn’t dead…  I forced my eyes to open.  My glasses weren’t on.  The room was a dim shaky blur.  Except for her.  She was close enough that she was in sharp focus.  Piper Chapman…  I turned my head slightly to look at her.  Jesus she was beautiful… “Piper…?”

She lowered me back down to the bed and then met my eyes intently, kissing me softly but firmly, as though she didn’t want to overwhelm me, like she was just wanted to reassure herself that I was there, alive and real.  I could feel tears still running down her face.  When she pulled away, she said, “Don’t fucking do that to me again, God damn it…”

“I… I’m sorry?” I said, confused.  I couldn’t seem to hold onto my thoughts for long before either the overwhelming nature of having Piper so near to me or the pain radiating from what seemed like my whole body got in the way.  “What… what happened, Piper?  Last I knew, Aydin was tuning up the heavenly choir for me…”

Piper kissed me again, this one lingering for a lot longer… if I hadn’t just nearly died, this was the sort of kiss that would’ve led to something.  As it was, I couldn’t do much but kiss her back lazily and put my arm uninjured arm around her weakly.  After a moment, she sat up and reached over to the bedside table where she retrieved my glasses and put them on my face for me.

When I looked at her, her face had a hard, determined edge to it. “That was before I brained him on the back of the head with the lamp,” she said, now all business.  She slid over to the edge of the bed, then reached back for me, putting one hand on my back and the other on my right arm and pulling me into a sitting position so I could see the rest of the room.

I winced as I sat up.  Then I surveyed the bedroom and raised an eyebrow… my poor addled, recently nearly dead brain couldn’t quite make sense of this.  Mendez was still lying where I’d left him, in a pool of blood.  His face was covered in blood and his arms were limp at his sides, the right one still fastened to the floor by the pocket knife.  Aydin wasn’t far away, curled into a heap, the broken remnants of an extremely ugly table lamp, probably the nearest of the numerous blunt objects Piper had mentioned earlier, scattered around him.  Piper had tied his hands together behind his back with the lamp's cord, but it didn’t look like he’d be joining us any time soon.  Behind him, I could still see Eddie’s limp form.

I nodded my head towards Aydin, “...is he…?”

“Alive?  Yes,” she glared at him.  Her eyes moved to Mendez, “Mendez on the other hand…”

“What?  I... I killed him…?”

“Well, he doesn’t appear to be breathing so…” she gestured, “You broke his nose with that hard head of yours, and then when you were hitting him, I think you pushed his septum into his brain.  Obviously not your intention, but I’m finding it difficult to be particularly upset about it…”

I frowned down at Mendez’s lifeless corpse.  I’d never killed anyone before.  I had expected to feel a lot worse about it than this…  It wasn’t something to be taken lightly, but I’d been defending myself and I’d been defending Piper… and honestly Mendez was a giant steaming pile of shit whose mother probably didn’t even like him that much.  I doubted even Kubra would miss him…

I turned back to Piper.  For the first time I registered that there was a nasty bruise on her left cheekbone… I felt my face curl into a scowl.  I wanted to raise a hand to touch her face, but I realized my right was bandaged up, and moving my left arm at all was a challenge…  “Did… did Aydin do that to you?”

Piper’s hand moved to her cheek, “He got a good hit in, yes,” she said, frowning, “Nearly knocked me out…”

“That… _bastard_ …”

She huffed out a short laugh.  I frowned at her, confused, "What?"

 "Alex… you were _shot_ three times and nearly died.  I got hit once in the face and didn’t even lose consciousness… and _you’re_ the one who’s worried about _me_?”

As she said it I realized how silly it sounded, but something about the thought of her being hit was a lot worse in to me than the thought of me being shot.  Although… I had been _shot_ … multiple times… I frowned at her, “Piper… how am I back here...?”

“I hit Aydin as he was firing.  He still managed to get the shot off but it just grazed your head rather than blowing a hole in it…”  I went to put my right hand up to my head and frowned as I realized there was a bandage wrapped around the hand as well. I switched to my left hand and felt a bandage on my forehead, just above my right eye, “It was just a surface wound, but those bleed the most.  You lost a lot of blood before I could get it under control.  You’ve been out for about an hour, which was fine for awhile because it gave me time to dress your other wounds… 

“You injured your hand pretty badly on Mendez’s face.  There wasn’t much I could do, so I just bound it up.  More importantly,  both bullets went straight through, thank God, and it looks like the one he put in your midsection missed anything important.  I could tell from the amount of bleeding there was or wasn't as the case may be…” she gave a shaky sigh, like she still wasn’t over how relieved she was about that.  I felt a swell of affection for her and put my hand over hers where it lay on the bed between us.

Then I realized that I was stripped down to my bra on top.  I looked over at my shoulder, then down at my midsection where Aydin’s bullet had gone straight through.  Both were dressed neatly with white gauze.  I glanced over at her, “This looks like a pro job.  Did you… call a doc?”

“No.  I’ve volunteered at the VA hospital for four years, Alex.  I can’t exactly perform surgery, but I know how to apply a bandage and stitch up a wound.”

I poked the edge of the bandage on my torso and winced, “Did you go out and get a bunch of gauze and tape?”

She half smiled, shaking her head, “I didn't have to.  Karl may be a stupid suspicious son of a motherless whore, but evidently he’s also very, very clumsy.  Eddie once told me he seriously injures himself about once a week.  So he has a very extensive collection of first aid supplies down in the garage.”

“Guess I should thank Karl…”

“Karl owes us one for talking Eddie into calling Kubra... he's lucky he's not here,” she said, darkly.  She looked at me, an apology in her eyes, “I know you’re not even close to one hundred percent and I would love to just let you lie here and recover for the next week or so, but the reality is we’re running short on time.  Mendez was probably supposed to report back to Kubra at some point.  Once Kubra realizes that’s not going to happen, he’ll be sending someone else for us. We _need_ to be gone, preferably _long_ gone, when they get here,” she glanced at the clock, “Now that you’re up, we can’t stay here any longer…  I’ve got the car loaded out back, I just couldn’t haul you out to it without dragging you and I really didn’t feel like ruining all my good work by busting all your stitches open...”

“You got… the car loaded?” my brain felt like it was moving through molasses, but I was trying to grasp the situation, “…I thought your half of the money… I thought you had to go get it… you told Eddie that it would take time…”

“I did go and get it…” she gave me a sheepish grin, “It was in the basement.”

“What?”

“It was in the basement of this house the entire time.”

Despite everything, I smiled, “Jesus, kid… you really are a clever asshole…”

She grinned briefly, “And we’re taking Eddie’s car… I only thought we’d need yours because he’d still be around, but…”

My brows knit, “Really… really feeling the loss?”

“No,” she said simply. 

I nodded dumbly, “Okay…”

“Eddie was a means to an end, Alex. He was all right before he started hitting me and trying to steal my money.  And he kind of burned his last bridge when he called a psychotic to come take me back to my father…” she cupped my face in her hand, made me look at her, “Whatever he might once have meant to me went up in smoke the first time he hit me… I can’t make myself feel bad about that…”

We looked at each other for a long moment, and then I nodded.  Eddie hadn’t exactly done much to make himself worthy of being mourned. 

She reached back and pulled something up off the floor.  It was a plain white undershirt.  “As much as I’d like for you to go wandering around like that,” she said gesturing to my mostly naked chest, “I don’t think the good people of this town would be able to handle it."

“That’s ‘cause they don’t appreciate greatness,” I muttered, half smiling.  She helped me into the shirt, trying to be as careful as possible when maneuvering my wounded arm into it.  I winced, but did my best not to cry out.  I frowned at the shirt, “Is this Eddie’s?”

“Karl’s. It’s never been worn.  He just bought some new shirts the day before yesterday.”

I nodded, irrationally grateful I wasn’t wearing anything Eddie had touched.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

I took a deep breath, “As I’ll ever be…” I muttered.

Piper had me put my right arm over her shoulders, then put her left around me, gripping me as firmly as possible, trying not to hurt me too badly.  I moved my legs until they were hanging off the bed and was dismayed to find that even this amount of effort was tiring me out.  I felt weak as a fucking kitten.  She wasn’t kidding when she said I’d lost a lot of blood.

“On the count of three,” she said.  She counted and then hauled me up.  It took a great deal of effort to keep myself from falling back over again immediately.  We stood there for a moment while she let me collect myself.  Standing up was a hell of a lot more exhausting than lying down… She gave me an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, babe, but this isn’t going to be easy…”

“Just keep calling me ‘babe’ and I’ll be fine,” I said, trying for smooth, but mostly just sounding pained.  I was already sweating, and standing upright and putting weight on my legs was making everything throb.

We were about to start walking painfully slowly towards the bedroom door when the sound of sirens invaded the room.  It was hard to judge distance given how quiet the town was, and how far sound carried, but they couldn’t have been that far.  It only took about five minutes to cover the town under normal circumstances.  The way cops drove, we had maybe two minutes…  We didn’t have enough time to risk assuming the sirens weren’t meant for us… and neither of us was dumb enough to think that anyway. 

Piper froze, frowning, and looked over at me, her eyes shot through with both concern and something else I recognized clearly as calculation…  My head was still swimming.  The amount of effort it was taking to stay upright, was so, so draining.  I’d been on my feet for a minute and we’d advanced about three steps, which was evidently about my top speed.  She’d parked out back.  If I was in top shape, we could’ve easily run out the back door before they got there and been away one step ahead of them…

But right now the distance from the bed to the door to the landing seemed like a million miles, and once we got there I’d have to get down the fucking stairs… It was going to take so much time… time we clearly didn’t have…

“God damn it,” she muttered, her eyes still on me.  I couldn’t tell if she was cursing me or the situation.

The sirens were getting closer…. It wouldn’t be long before they pulled up in front of the house.  She shut her eyes and took a deep breath… when she opened them again, they were filled with a hard resole.  Gently but firmly, she gripped me again and half dragged me backwards  to the bed, laying me back down, pulling off my glasses and putting them on the table. 

She was moving quickly, and the pain and blood loss induced haze in my head was fogging my vision and smothering my thoughts.  It was taking me way too long to catch up with what was going on.

I had barely even registered that I was lying down again when Piper leaned down into my line of vision, speaking quickly and urgently, “Pretend to be unconscious.  Pretend to be unconscious and when they wake you up, you tell them what happened, do you understand, Alex?  Tell them everything that happened... it was all self-defense…”  Somewhere in the background I became aware that there were tires screeching on asphalt nearby, that the sirens were stopping, car doors were slamming…

“What, Piper…?” I couldn’t understand what she was saying.  “Are you… are you _leaving?”_

Her eyes went soft, and tears had started falling from them again.  She leaned forward and kissed me and when she pulled back she rested her forehead on mine, looking into my eyes…  They were so intense and so fucking blue, and the emotion in them was so strong it was overwhelming.  There was so much fucking melancholy and longing there that it took my breath away, “I think I love you, Alex,” she said quietly, a tremor in her voice as she spoke, “I’ve never loved someone before but I think that’s how I feel about you...” she closed her eyes, and I felt her tears falling on my face…

I was stunned and speechless.  I spent my whole life coming up with snappy comebacks but the minute she trotted out the fucking “L” word and I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say….

The sound of boots pounding on the pavement out front fought through the silence… I heard someone pounding at the door, “POLICE!  Open up!”

Piper opened her eyes and sat back up slowly.  The softness in her expression disappeared as quickly as it had come, there was steel in her voice now, even though I thought I could see the emotions warring in the back of her eyes, “…I’ve sacrificed everything for this… I can’t go back now…”  When she spoke, it almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as me…

My mind was racing to catch up here, Jesus fucking Christ, she was going to leave me here… she had just told me that she fucking loved me and she was going to leave me here… anger was fighting against the edges of my grogginess… whether she was conflicted about it or not it all came out to the same thing… “Piper… god damn it… what are you saying?”

“I won’t forget you, Alex.  Do you understand?  I _won’t_ forget…”

“Piper…” I was appalled at how my voice sounded, needy, desperate, like it was a little kid who was about to fucking cry…  I took a deep breath.  _Toughen up, you stupid lovesick asshole._ “Piper,” I said again… (good this time I was shading more towards angry than despairing), “What the fuck are you talking about… what…”

“They’ll send me back to my father, Alex.  They’ll send me back there and if I go back I will _never_ have another chance to get away…”

Fuck… I knew she was right…  I _knew_ he would never let her go again, that’s if Kubra didn’t kill her first… but the thought of her leaving after everything… I could feel tears pricking at my eyes and I swiped at them angrily with my left hand, nearly gasping the pain that knifed through my shoulder, “Piper… don’t… god damn it, don’t you _fucking leave me_ …”

The pounding downstairs was getting louder, an angry male voice bellowed, “ _POLICE!_   If you don’t open up this damn door, we’ll break it down!”

Piper held my eyes for another long moment… there was so much held in her gaze, way too much for my addled brain to fully comprehend.  Finally, she shook her head once.  She leaned forward and kissed me hard and fast, “Remember what I said…”

And then, moving with uncanny speed, she slid across the bed and disappeared into the master bathroom where I assumed there was a window just big enough for her to shimmy out of.  She slammed the door, and a split second later, I heard a crash from downstairs as the cops broke through the front door of the house.

I looked at the door to the bathroom, I willed myself to move but my body wouldn’t listen. Without help, I could barely roll over on my side.  The injuries and the blood loss were dragging me down like a lead weight… and now my fucking chest felt like it was being hollowed out as well…  I heard feet pounding up the stairs, voices yelling orders.

I was simultaneously trying to rein in my anger and ignore the ache in my chest that felt a lot like someone had just opened it up and pulled my heart out.  _Fuck that manipulative blonde bitch_ , I thought, and then almost immediately on the heels of that came, _but she loves you_ …  I had to get it together… I had to calm myself down.  I felt like I was going to cry or scream and neither one of those things was going to be helpful right now…

Damn her, but she was right about what I had to do... I shut my eyes and went limp, trying to force my emotions to get their shit together. This was the only way I had a chance of making it out of here without getting arrested…

But Jesus _fucking_ Christ it hurt… for one brief moment I almost thought that dying would’ve been a whole lot easier than this…


	14. Farewell, My Lovely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex gets a free ride back to the City of Angels...

The door crashed inward.  I could hear feet pounding into the room and a familiar voice saying, “Holy _shit_ …”

Joe?  What the hell was Joe doing here?

I kept my eyes closed.  I was in fact, getting to the point where I was almost legitimately sliding back into unconsciousness when I heard Joe’s voice again, “ _Alex?_   Jesus Christ!” then over his shoulder to someone else in the room, “They got a doc in this shitstain of a town?”

“Yeah, boss…” I recognized the voice of Joe’s top guys, a fat, amiable detective named Kevin O’Neill.

“Get him, get him now…”  I sensed him kneeling next to me and felt his hand on my arm, shaking me gently, “Alex?”

It didn’t take much for me to ‘fake’ coming slowly out of a stupor, it seemed like my eyelids had lead weights tied to them.  I opened my eyes slowly and turned my head to look at him. He was keeping up his tough guy façade, but I’d known him long enough to see the panic and worry in his eyes.  I felt a swell of affection for him.  He really was a good guy and he was one of the few people who cared about me…  He ran his hand over his face, heaving out a relieved breath, “Jesus, kid… I thought you might be…” he shook his head, “Christ, you gave me a heart attack…”

“Joe?” I asked, genuine confusion in my voice, “What?”

“Long story, kid.  Suffice it to say, I had an APB out on Mendez’s car.  Got here as quickly as we could…” he threw a glance back, “Not soon enough for those poor bastards, evidently…”

A voice from behind him said, “Mendez is dead, Sergeant.  But this other guy is still breathing…”

Caputo looked over his shoulder, “All right, Bennett.  Put a call in to LA and get them to send a van out here.  I don’t trust these yokels any farther than I can throw ‘em.  Gotta do this right…”   He turned back to me, frowning, “All right, kid, what happened here?”

I took a deep breath… now was my chance.  It had only been about two minutes since Piper had gone out the window.  She couldn’t have been far.  She might not even have been out on the highway yet if she’d had to maneuver around the cop cars.  I told myself I didn't owe her anything.  I told myself I owed her _less than nothing_ for leaving me like this in the first place…  part of me, a pretty God damn large part of me, was so fucking angry I couldn’t stand it.  That part wanted to tell Caputo what she’d done.  I wanted to watch as he slapped the cuffs on her and she was marched off to face the fucking firing squad…

But then there was the other part of me… the part that was a giant fucking chump who was remembering how her lips had felt when she’d kissed me before she disappeared.  The part that remembered she’d told me exactly what to do before she’d left.  That part remembered that she waited for me to wake up before she even thought about leaving...  That part remembered how she’d made me feel…

She'd probably been counting on this...  Counting on my fucking sentiment and the fact that she’d somehow managed to wrap me around her impeccably manicured finger in just twenty four God damn hours…

Fuck. I turned to Joe and proceeded to explain everything that had happened, up to and including the part where I smashed Mendez’s nose through his brain. But I left out the part where Piper Chapman and I had gotten to know each other in the Biblical sense about seven times the night before.  I neglected to mention that Piper had stolen out the window about thirty seconds ahead of him busting through the door.  I _protected_ her.  Just like I'd protected her from Mendez.  I made sure that she would be safe, even though it meant I would probably never see her again...  Even though the _thought_ of never seeing her again made me want to cry like a stupid little kid. 

"After Aydin shot me, I passed out..." I said, trying not to let my voice break, "I don't know how I got up here... I guess... Pi-- the Chapman kid... must have put me here..."

"Wasn't she desperate to get away from these guys?  From all of us?"

"Yeah..."

"But she took the time to dress your wounds?" he was looking at the bandage on my head, "I mean, if you were shot three times... taking care of that would've taken awhile..."

"I guess..." I said, "I'm no nurse... guess maybe she felt like she... owed me... for taking care of Mendez..."  My voice was beginning to fade out.  The exhaustion had been seeping through me steadily since Piper had left, and I could feel it weighing me down.  All I wanted was to sleep... to sleep and fucking forget.

Joe was examining me closely, looking for a hint of a lie.  I would’ve been offended, but we both knew he was justified in his scrutiny.  I’d spent a lot of time lying to him. Most of the lies I'd told him were necessary at the time I'd told them, but I wasn’t really proud of any of myself for it.   Joe was a decent guy.  Finally, he nodded, sighing, “Okay, kid…” before he could ask me anything else, O’Neill’s hefty frame filled the door way, the doctor trailing behind.

“Hey boss.  Got the doc.”

Joe stood up and stepped away, letting the doctor examine me.  “We’ll talk more when we get back to the City,  Alex…" he put a hand on my arm and squeezed it, gently, "I'm glad you're okay...”

***

The doc gave me a shot of morphine which I welcomed gratefully.  I slept all the way back to LA in the back of Joe’s car.  I woke up in a hospital bed with Joe sitting next to me.  I’d slept for nearly a day and it was almost midnight, the room lit only by a small bedside lamp.

Joe quietly explained what had happened.  Turned out, when Mendez had pounded down the door of my apartment back he had attracted the attention of my nosy fucking neighbors, who were tired of people pounding on my door at all hours and had called the cops.  They’d walked in to find Mendez tearing the place apart.  Mendez had gotten out through the window, same way I had, but the fact that he was there at all had given Caputo solid proof that something was rotten about the Chapman deal.

He'd looked at me knowingly when he got to that part, "You're not as good a liar as you think, Alex.  Just 'cause I didn't have any proof you were looking into Chapman's case didn't mean I didn't know you were looking into Chapman's case...  And if you were sniffing around Chapman and Mendez was after you… I put two and two together pretty quick at that point…"

He’d put out an All Points on Mendez’s car to every sheriff’s station in a 100 mile radius.  It had taken Lake Town’s slow as fuck sheriff a good long while to read his reports and then actually notice Mendez's sleek fucking Buick rolling through his sleepy burg, but he’d eventually called it in.

"If that fucking yokel had called us in when he'd first spotted the car, we might have made it in time to save you some trouble."

I smiled ruefully, "I dunno, Joe.  Not like it was right around the corner.  What happened happened fast, maybe 20 minutes all told from the time Mendez walked in until the time Aydin shot me..."

He grimaced, "Still... God damn locals with their heads up their asses... they tried to give me shit about taking you outta there... like _you_ were the one instigating trouble…"  He leaned forward, “And about that, I’ve successfully made the argument that you were protecting yourself from Mendez and didn’t intend to kill him.  For once all the lazy, corrupt assholes in the fuckin' LAPD are working in my favor.  No one liked the fucker, so no one minds me just closing the file and shuffling it into a box somewhere."

"Thanks, Joe," I sighed.  Well, at least I wasn't going to prison.  Not sure how well I'd have done in a place like that. Not sure I had the temperament for it.  Just thinking about being trapped in a box was making me claustrophobic.

“Piper Chapman hit Aydin pretty fucking hard. Guy's not even awake yet.”

I nodded slowly, “Jesus…” 

“And there's no sign of her… She probably got a pretty significant head start on us.  So that case is still open…”

I felt a surge of disappointment followed by a swell of happiness that she’d managed to get away.  I cocked an eyebrow at him and my smirk turned into a grimace as I felt the pain.  Everything about my head hurt.  “I didn’t think there _was_ a case.”

He grinned, “There is now..." the grin widened, "In fact, there's a lot of investigating going on in the Chapman household these days.  A _very_ fascinating box of papers arrived by courier at police headquarters this morning at 6am. A whole load of Councilman Chapman’s personal files, as a matter of fact.  Files that detailed a very elaborate series of kickbacks and bribes, concessions he’d given to Kubra Balik and other… unsavory types.  All the transactions are very meticulously documented... they’re even accompanied by ledgers that were filled out by a guy we know was working for Kubra.  Some sad sack named Larry Bloom.  He died a couple weeks ago and it was ruled a suicide, but…”

I frowned, trying to wrap my mind around what he was saying.  “That’s… so what does that mean?”

“Bill Chapman’s under investigation.  We’ve gotta handle this just right.  The man's got lawyers with hourly rates higher than what I make in a month... but our current DA is actually halfway honest and he doesn't like Chapman anyway cause Bill gave money to the other guy during the election.  So he won’t sweep it under the rug, and the proof is so ironclad that this could finally be curtains for the Chapman ‘dynasty’…”

I nodded, "That's... that's good..."

"Yeah. Chapman's in a world of hurt.  But Balik has disappeared.”

“What?”

“He’s taken a runner.  We know he’s got guys in the department, and they must've tipped him off about what was coming.  The papers are as bad for him as they are for Chapman.  We could never pin any murders or violent crimes on him, he’s too good, but this… this is all pretty clear cut.  Guess he figured if they could get Capone for tax evasion they could get him for bribing a public official.  He’d still be just as incarcerated.  We raided the Stardust this afternoon but he was gone already.”

“So… does that mean I don’t have to worry about him coming and cutting my ears off for killing his top boy?”

“I’d say it does.  My bet is he keeps his head down for a good long while.”  
“Jesus,” I almost couldn’t believe it. I half smiled. Piper was a brilliant fucking little minx.  She’d made sure everyone who ever fucked her over was getting fucked right back and even harder.  I don't know how she'd managed with the papers, but I supposed it didn't really matter.  All that mattered was that they were enough to put a nail in the coffin of everyone who ever fucked with her.

He looked at his watch, "It's getting late.  I've gotta get back to the office.  Gotta finish up some of the paperwork from the Stardust raid..." he stood up and grabbed his hat and coat from the back of the chair he'd been sitting in.  "Oh, and the car you took to Lake Town... I had O'Neill drive it back for you.  It's in the hospital parking lot."

"Thanks..."

"No problem kid," he patted my good shoulder and leaned down and pecked my forehead gingerly, trying to avoid all the various cuts and scrapes. "Lemme know when they letcha go, okay?"

"Sure thing."

He straightened up and headed towards the door.  Halfway there, he looked back at me, as though suddenly remembering something.  "Hey, one more question..."

I frowned.  I'd kind of been looking forward to staring out the window and moping about Piper.  "Yeah?"

"How did you happen to find the Chapman girl...?"

It occurred to me that he must not have found the diary in my jacket pocket, because if he had he'd already know how I found her.  Piper must have taken it with her.  I felt a pang in my chest.  That was the only tangible piece of her I'd had... maybe the only one I'd ever have...  fuck... "I talked to her brother.  He mentioned something about the driver, Mars, quitting about a month before she went missing.  Said they were close.  I checked the public records and found out he had a brother out there.  It was a shot in the dark... but I didn't have a whole lot else to go on, y'know?"  Well… that was at least 35% the truth…

He gave me that look, like he was trying to read me. Then he nodded again, "Okay," he put on his hat and opened the door, "Rest up, Alex..."

Then he left, closing the door.  I sighed deeply.  I couldn't bring myself to even think about Piper anymore.  It was too painful. Too confusing... I was so fucking torn between being happy for her having escaped and being devastated that she'd left...  I'd spent too much time on it and I was just so, so tired.  The morphine they had me on was making me sleepy again even though I'd only been awake for about two hours.  I stared at the ceiling for a long moment before feeling my eyelids get heavy and I fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep...

***

Turned out Piper had done an excellent job of cleaning and dressing my wounds. The docs at the hospital really just had to make sure I was stable and the bandages were fresh.  I was released from the hospital the next evening.  Joe had warned me that my apartment was trashed, the door off its hinges, the place ransacked, and that my landlord was livid.  He’d gotten together a suitcase full of my shit and kept it for me.  He offered to let me stay at his place, but I declined.  Joe was like family, but I wasn’t really prepared to share living space with a cop, no matter how much I liked him.

I had him follow me in his car while I returned the car Nicky had loaned me to the garage it had come from. I chuckled as I thought about how she'd probably be upset I hadn't wrecked the fucking thing.  Then I had Joe take me to my office.  He walked with me up the stairs, carrying the suitcase full of what was left of my worldly possessions for me.  I unlocked the door and sighed as I walked in.  Joe dropped the suitcase by the door. 

“You gonna be okay, kid?”

“Yeah, Uncle Joe, thanks.  For everything.”

He pulled me into a bear hug, “You’re welcome.  I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Hah, yeah… me too,” I said quietly.

He gave me a wave as he walked out the door, “Don’t be a stranger, huh?”

I waved back,“Yeah.”

The door shut behind him and I sank down onto my couch, pushing my bandaged right hand through my hair, finally allowing myself to think about just how _not_ okay I was…Yeah, Mendez was gone and Kubra was out of the picture. Yeah, Bill Chapman was at the very least going to be caught up in a scandal that would cost him thousands to sort out and would likely ruin his reputation.  Yeah, I had survived being shot three times and having my brains rattled around my head like dice in a crap game. 

But Piper was gone.  And she sure as shit wasn’t coming back, and somehow weighed against all the good shit, it still didn’t balance out.  For the briefest moment I’d gotten to experience something I hadn’t even realized I was missing, and it had been so fucking amazing.  Yeah it had only been a day, and yeah a lot of that day had been fucking chaos, but the connection I’d felt had been so intense… so powerful that losing it made me feel like I ought to be in full on mourning.

I sighed… God damn it…  Now I knew why I’d never fallen in love before: because losing it hurt like a fucking bitch.  It would've been so much easier to live with if I didn't give a shit...

***

I met Polly Harper the next day for lunch at the same place we'd gone before. She didn't bother to hide her shock at my appearance.  I supposed I couldn't blame her.  I looked a lot like warmed over shit.  My left arm was in a sling, to keep me from putting stress on my shoulder, the knuckles of my right hand were bandaged... My black eye was finally starting to fade, but was still visible, and the cut over my left eye no longer required a bandage, but that just meant you could clearly see how bad it was.  The gash on the right side of my forehead, on the other hand, was still covered (they were going to make a lovely pair of matching scars someday... at least I'd be symmetrical).  I was walking with a distinct hitch in my gait thanks to the fact that my side tightened up every time I took a step...   _And_ the skirt and jacket (it was a business meeting, so I was making a feeble attempt at professional) I was wearing looked _exactly_ like they had been pulled out of a suitcase this morning.

Not to mention the fact that, between the pain and my stupid wrecked brain riding itself in circles over Piper (alternately cursing her for leaving and being happy she escaped until it chased itself right down into a swirling pit of darkness), I'd gotten a total of about two hours of exhausted, restless sleep.  When I'd looked at myself in the mirror this morning, I found circles under my eyes that were darker than the black eye Mendez (may he burn in hell) had given me.  I hadn't even bothered with my fucking eyeliner, which was a definite sign my shit was about as far from together as it could get.

I sat down and gave her a half hearted smile that made my face hurt. "Mrs. Harper..."

"Miss Vause," she said, raising her eyebrow in a way that instantly irritated me, "You're looking a little... um... rough..."

I snorted a laugh, "Thanks for pointing that out.  I hadn't noticed..."  So much for professional...

Her mouth tightened with displeasure, but I was really _not_ in the mood to be fucking polite right now. The pain pills they'd given me were decent, but they weren't as good as the morphine, and everything was fucking sore.   She muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like, "Just trying to be polite, don't have to be a dick about it..." 

Then she said in her normal voice, (which hadn't gotten any less grating since the first time I’d heard it), "I read about Piper's father in the paper...  Glad to see that... jerk is getting his."

I nodded, lighting up a cigarette, "yeah.  Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

She sipped her coffee, "I was beginning to think I wasn't going to hear from you..." she said, frustration coloring her voice, clearly annoyed I hadn't given her a daily report yesterday.

"Sorry about that," I said, unapologetically.  I made an expansive gesture with my right hand, basically pointing to my entire body, "Was a little busy too getting my ass kicked to give you a call."

She bit back what was probably going to be a _very clever_ retort, "You said on the phone you found Piper?"

I nodded. There was no way to keep what had happened in Lake Town out of the papers entirely, but Joe had been very careful about what they knew.  The guys he'd taken out to Lake Town had all been loyal to him, the Lake Town sheriff was afraid of him, and Karl Mars was terrified of going to jail, so it'd been easy enough to spin the whole thing as an illegal transaction gone bad.  They'd kept my name and Piper's name out of it completely.  Holly... _Polly_ would have no way of knowing what had really happened.

"She'd run off with Eddie Mars. They were lying low at his brother's place, over in Lake Town."

"Eddie Mars?  The chauffeur they fired?"

"Yeah," I muttered, and added quickly, before she had a chance to ask about Piper and Eddie's "relationship" (I _really_ didn't want to start down that fucking primrose path), "She was okay last I saw her."

"What do you mean, 'last you saw' her?" she asked, her voice going shrill and vaguely accusatory.  I regretted not having at least a couple of drinks before I came to meet with her.

"She left before I had a chance to really speak to her," I said tightly, "But she was alive and well..."

Polly sighed... she actually seemed relieved.  She turned that over in her head for awhile, regret on her features.  "Well, I can't say I'm thrilled she's disappeared again.  But I guess at least she's okay.  I really just wanted to know she was alive..."

I nodded, unable to say anything more without tipping my hand.  I didn't really feel like telling Polly Harper about the fact that I was soul crushingly in love with her beautiful fucking disaster of a best friend.

She pulled a large check book out of her purse and filled one of them out then she slid it over to me. I looked at it and my eyebrows shot up so fast I thought my cuts were going to re-open. She'd promised to double my rate, but this was more like triple... "Fuck me..." I breathed, "Jesus... um, look, Mrs. Harper, this is... this is a lot more than I was intending to bill you for, y'know?"

She sighed, "Yeah, I know," and when she looked up at me, her face actually seemed to soften, and I got a glimpse of why Piper might actually have liked the spoiled bitch, "But you actually found her... and Jesus, it looks like you went through hell to do it..."

I thought about refusing the money, but I didn't have it in me.  She could afford it, and she was fucking right.  Yeah... yeah I had been through hell for Piper fucking Chapman...


	15. Epilogue Part I - Fourth of July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the bridges they have burned may light the way back home?

_Three Weeks Later_

“Jesus, wake the fuck up, Vause!  It’s nearly three in the afternoon!”  Nicky’s voice was loud and right next to my ear. Well this seemed familiar… She was shaking me by my good shoulder. 

I grimaced.  The hangover from the night before hadn’t dissipated and my head was still pounding, “Fuck off Nichols,” I grumbled, slapping at her hand feebly with my still healing right hand, burrowing myself further into my office couch.

“Jesus fuck, Vause.  This is becoming a bad fuckin' habit.  I can't even remember the last time I saw you emerge from your cave before noon.  Are ya seriously still moping?”

“Fuck you, Nick, I’m not moping,” I grumbled mopily, face still buried determinedly in the pillow.

 “Yeah, you’re not moping.  You spend your days cocooned on this ratty fuckin' couch like a fuckin' caterpillar and your nights sitting in the corner booth at Red’s trying to make your liver head for higher ground. You’re doing _juuuust_ fuckin' fine.”

“Go'way.”

“Y’know, you’re gonna _have_ to stop this eventually.  Old Lady Harper’s money isn’t going to last forever.”

“You don’t know how much she paid me,” I muttered.  Holly had given me more than enough money to keep me in beer and cigarettes for at least three months. 

“For the love of Christ, Vause,” she said, exasperated, “stop being such a fucking sap!  I know you got all attached, but the bitch fuckin' _abandoned_ you!  She didn't deserve you...”

I sat up suddenly, ignoring the painful head rush, and glared at her blearily, “Don’t fucking call her a bitch…” I growled, still groggy.

Nicky was a bushy haired blur, but I could make out enough of her expression to see that it was softening from irritated asshole to sympathetic asshole,  “Vause…” her tone was gentler now… at least as gentle as it ever got, “I know she got to you, but… she’s _gone_ man. You can’t dwell…”

I squinted at her for a long moment, then I ran my left hand through my hair and put my head in my hands, sighing deeply, “I know…” I breathed it so softly that I wasn't even sure she caught the words.

She slumped down on the couch next to me and slung an arm around my shoulders, giving me a gentle shake, mindful the mostly healed but still sore right shoulder she was jostling, “Straight girls…” she sighed sympathetically, “they’ll fuck you up every time…” I grimaced.  She patted my upper arm heartily, “C’mon, lemme take you to lunch.  We can eat coq au vin at the Brown Derby and I can tell you all about the Chinese lady I was trying to collect from yesterday who tried to pay me in oranges…”

I looked over at her and half smiled.  The prospect of getting out of my stuffy office wasn’t such a bad one, and at the very least, Nicky was excellent at being a distraction.  I huffed another heavy sigh, “Yeah… okay…”

***

Lunch at the Derby led to sitting on Nicky’s deck staring out at the sunset and the waves crashing on the beach, drinking a full pot of coffee and chain smoking while she made some business calls inside. The coffee and the two gallons of water Nicky had forced me to drink had managed to chase my headache away for now, although given what I'd been doing with my nights lately, it wouldn't be long before I was opening the door and inviting the bitch right back in.

Nicky came out onto the deck just as I was finishing the last of my coffee and I didn't have to look to see her rolling her eyes at me slumped in the chair.  "Jesus... I let you sit down in a beach chair for forty minutes and all of a sudden you're a fuckin' lump again, staring all moon eyed at the ocean like you’re in a sappy fuckin’ romance movie...”

I cut my eyes over to her, "Such a fucking sweet talker, Nichols."

She sighed, "Look, Vause, I was willing to concede you a couple weeks of this sad sack bullshit ‘cause you were still recovering from the whole, y’know, nearly dying thing.  _Which_ , by the way, I really haven’t forgiven Blondie for.  I’m still pretty fuckin’ sore at her for getting’ your tall ass into that mess in the first place…"

" _Piper_ didn't get me into anything. Holly's the one who hired me..."

"Old Lady Harper just hired you to _find_ her friend.  She probably expected you’d just, y’know, give her a call when you found her.  Blondie and her cute little sad face are the reason you stuck around and got yourself fuckin’ perforated," she waved her hand, dismissing the circular argument we'd been having for the past three weeks.  "And now you're all better..."

"’All better’ seems like a stretch..." I muttered, stubbing out my cigarette.

"Your arm's outta the sling, you can walk without gimpin' anymore... hell, even your face looks decent again... as decent as it ever gets anyways..." she added, grinning.

I flipped my middle finger up at her lazily and winced.  I waved my right hand, a bandage wrapped around the knuckles like I was a prizefighter, "My right hand still hurts.  And my shoulder is still kind of sore."

"Yeah, yeah, okay but you can _move_.  Come on man, you should go out tonight.”

“I’ve _been_ going out,” I said, stubborn, “I’ve been at Red’s every night…”

She shook her head, “Sitting and drinking by yourself in a corner not talking to anyone doesn’t count as ‘going out’. It’s just a louder, busier, _more expensive_ version of stayin’ in…”

“I talk to people,” I insisted.

“You talk to _me._   Everyone else you either glare at or tell to fuck off… not to mention you kicked that Carlin girl in the fuckin’ snatch the other night, which seemed pretty anti-social…  She wasn’t even _doing_ anything.”

Yeah, that had been a particularly bad night. Nicky had been busy and hadn’t caught me before I transformed from a melancholy drunk into surly drunk, which usually came after _a lot_ of drinks _._ I really barely remembered the girl. She didn't seem to have any actual personality traits besides being incredibly aggravating. I vaguely recalled that she had an annoying dingo fucker accent and that she kept making snotty, passive aggressive comments about how I was hogging the corner booth. I scowled at the memory. “I didn’t like her face.”

Nicky sighed, “Whatever, man.  I’m just sayin’ you’re not even tryin’ to have any fun.  Look, Red’s throwin’ a big party tonight for the Fourth...."

"The Fourth?"

"Jesus, you don't even know what fuckin' day it is...  Fourth of July, Vause.  Birth of our fuckin' country, rah rah, stars and stripes and all that bullshit.  Perfect opportunity to find a warm body to spend a little time with and have a few drinks..." she gave me a pointed look, "Well maybe not so much with the drinking..."

I frowned and lit another cigarette, considering her invitation.  Nicky was right, I hadn’t exactly been joining in the revels lately.  I really just sat in a booth by myself drinking until she refused to let anyone serve me anymore and poured me into a cab.  I figured that if I drank in public rather than alone at home I wasn’t being totally unhealthy.  But I hadn’t actually interacted in any real way with anyone, except to tell the girls she sent over I wasn't interested.  Because of course Nicky sent girls over… Being Nicky, she was convinced the best way to get Piper out of my system was to fuck the brains out of someone else.

"Come onnnnn...” she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, as if she knew what I’d just been thinking about, “there'll be a ton of pretty dames there..."

I gave her a dark look, "I don't want to fuck some random girl, Nichols..."

“Never thought I’d hear you say _that_ …” she muttered. Then, louder, she said, "Fine, then just come and spend time with your best friend, okay?"  She clapped a hand on my good shoulder, "Maybe try, y'know, actually talking to some other live human beings.  I mean, I'm pretty fuckin' captivating, but I feel like you oughta diversify. You used to be the life'a the party..." there was a note of real concern underneath her enthusiastic patter that gave me pause.  I pushed my glasses up so I could rub my eyes.

I had intended to stay in tonight because Red’s was going to be more crowded than usual and I didn’t want to be bothered, but if the rooftop gathering was restricted just to members of Red’s little extended Family, it might not be so bad. And if I was being real honest with myself, I was tired of feeling like a lovesick moron.

I reached out and clasped her arm firmly, giving it a little shake, "Al'right..." I sighed, "I'll go..."

***

And that was how I ended up slumped drunkenly in yet another deck chair, this one on the roof of Red’s, staring at the sky blearily, while her Family laughed and cheered around me as they watched the fireworks. It was a little after eleven when Nicky came and crouched down next to me.  I couldn’t remember how long my ass had been glued to the chair.  Probably a long fucking time… “Hey, there Stretch… not exactly lookin’ as festive as the occasion, y’know.”

“It’s the Fourth of July, Nick…” I slurred, as I rolled my head towards her.

“Yeah… yeah I got that…” she cast a wry glance up at the sky, where the fireworks display was still going strong, “thus the explosions…” I rolled my head back up towards all the pretty colors.

“Y’know… me and Piper… we were like fireworks…” I had a lit cigarette in my left hand.  I held it up in front of my face so that the tip was in the foreground as the explosions continued in the background

Nicky sighed, I could practically _feel_ her eyes rolling, “Vause…”

“We went off too soon…” I flicked the cigarette off to the side dramatically. Someone swore in protest, but Nicky threw a hard look in that direction and whoever it was shut up, “Poof!” I said loudly, letting out a vaguely hysterical bark of laughter at the sound I’d just made.

“Jesus Christ…” she muttered, "How did you even get a drink?  You've been sitting here the whole fuckin' time and I've been tellin' people not to bring you any..."

I looked at her and tried to wink, but ended up blinking because I couldn't coordinate my fucking eyes.  Fuck... one at a time was way to fucking complicated.  "I am resourceful and _clever_ ," I said, grinning lazily as I enunciated each word carefully.

She was glancing around my immediate vicinity, trying to find the source of my inebriation. Finally, she spotted the empty bottle by my feet, half concealed by the chair. She picked it up, her already huge eyes getting even wider as she examined it, “Fucking hell!  Did you drink this entire bottle by yourself, you animal?”

I rolled my head to the side again, giving her what I absolutely _certain_ was a shrewd, conspiratorial grin, “Yeeeeah…" I actually fucking giggled, sounding appallingly like a six year old, "... _sssshhhhhhhh…_ don’t tell Red…”

“ _Fuck_ … that’s Dmitri’s shit. He makes that out of year old potatoes and turpentine... that stuff’ll make your guts melt…  I’m surprised you can still talk…”

“Talking is fun…" I drawled, "...guts… _guts_ … that’s a funny fuckin’ word…"  I started chuckling again, “I like funny things… and fun… _Hey_ you know who was fun…?” I made two attempts to grab her shirt collar before I caught it and pulled her towards me weakly, eyes trying to focus.  I lowered my voice, like I was letting her on a secret, “Piper was fun…”

“Damn it, Vause… I was just startin’ to enjoy myself…”

“You don’t have to stop enjoying yourself, Nick… _I’m_ enjoying myself…”

“Yeah, you’re having a grand time, kid…”

“I’m _not_ a kid!” I snapped, suddenly offended… then I frowned, considering, “ _Piper_ is a kid, you know… she’s 22… she was going to graduate from _Ssssmmmittth…_ ” I pinned Nicky with a serious stare, lowering my voice again, “That's a _college_ , Nick… an inst... institution of _higher learning_ …”

“Ah, Alex,” Nicky sighed sympathetically, and I knew she _really_ felt bad because she'd used my first name, “I think your party’s over. Come on,” she said, moving around in front of me and putting her hands under my arms, hauling me to my feet with a groan, “Jesus you’re fucking heavy, ya Sasquatch…”

“Not nice to talk about a lady’s figure,” I mumbled. My limbs felt like jelly. I slumped into her arms as she got me upright.  “Piper had a nice figure…” I breathed, and all of a sudden I had gone from giddy to melancholy, hunching over to clutch Nicky in a messy hug as I felt tears start to prickle at the edges of my eyes.  The untidy embrace was made even more awkward by the six inch height difference, which had me essentially smothering her, tipping her slightly backwards... Jesus alcohol was a bitch… 

Nicky patted my back tentatively, “Oh shit… Vause... are you… are you crying?”  she sounded distressed, “Aww fuck…  You’re not gonna make it back to your place tonight are you?  Damn it…”  she looked over my shaking shoulders at someone behind me and made a gesture with her head.  Suddenly, I felt a strong arm underneath mine and I was being walk/dragged towards the door by Red’s son Maxim, who was 6’3” and built like a brick wall. Nicky was walking slightly ahead of us, “Come on, Vause.  Let’s get you down where you can properly pass out and sleep this shit off…”

***

Consciousness came crawling slowly back through my brain like an unwelcome guest, bringing with it a wicked hangover induced headache that was intensified when I opened my eyes just slightly.  An unbearably bright light assaulted me immediately and I slammed my eyes shut again, groaning loudly and groping around for something to pull over my head.  That’s when I realized I wasn’t under the covers.  Slowly, other facts started to filter in through the pain.  I wasn’t in my own bed, or the couch in my office... I was also fully clothed and I seemed to be alone, which was odd.  I was plenty used to waking up in unfamiliar beds (although it hadn’t happened much recently), but usually I had company and was naked as the day I was born...

I risked cracking my eye again.  This time the light wasn’t such a shock.  And it also wasn’t the surface of the sun brightness I had thought.  Instead it was weak afternoon sunlight filtering in through the curtains pulled over the window of the bedroom I was in.  I moved my eye to the bedside table and saw a large tumbler of water, what looked like about a half dozen aspirin, and a folded piece of paper propped up between the tumbler and my neatly folded glasses.

Seeing the water made me realize that my mouth felt like it was full of cotton and wet sand.  I reached over and grabbed my glasses, sliding them onto my face without moving my head.  So far, my arm was the only thing I had bothered to move.  I was lying on my stomach on the bed and felt like anything more complicated than grabbing one item at a time with a single hand was going to be too much.  After my glasses were on and the world slid into focus, I fumbled around and picked up the note.

It was written out in Nicky’s expansive scrawl:

_Enjoy the aspirin, drunky. There’s some Jack in the kitchen if you feel like hair of the dog is necessary, but honestly I wouldn’t recommend it.  You had enough last night to last you a while.  Laid out a towel and shit for you in the bathroom if you want to clean up (now that I would recommend because... damn).  Check in downstairs when you feel like you can move. Nick… PS you certainly know how to make Fourth of July memorable…_

I felt myself smiling until I remembered just how much alcohol I’d consumed.  And why.  Fuck.  It had been three weeks.  I should’ve been moving past this.  But it was hard to move on when all I saw when I closed my eyes was her.  She still invaded my dreams.  The only way to keep her out was to drink so much that I just blacked out like I had last night.  I sighed deeply and pushed myself up, wincing.  My shoulder got especially sore in the mornings...  It didn't help even a little that I had as many physical scars from my time with Piper as much as I did mental ones.

I smiled bitterly, wondering if she’d even spared me a second thought… damn it… I didn’t need to start the day setting foot in _that_ particular mine field… I grabbed up the pills on the side table and downed them with the water, then I got up and headed for the bathroom.  Nicky may have been a bitch about it, but a shower really did sound like a little slice of fucking heaven…

***

Red’s was on the bottom floor of a four story building.  The top floor was where Red and her husband lived.  The one below that were apartments that were used by her sons and some of her Family. One of them was reserved for Nicky. She stayed there on nights she was too drunk to want to make her way back to the beach house (or on nights where she had company she didn’t really want to know where she actually lived).  That was where she'd dumped my drunk ass the night before, so it was a short trip down to the restaurant once I was showered and felt reasonably human.

The place was closed, but there was a back entrance that you could get to from the upper floors. When I walked in, Nicky was in her usual seat at the bar, flirting with Lorna Morello.  She'd been hanging around Morello for almost a month now, since before I took Piper's case.  It was the longest I'd ever seen her focus on one girl and I could tell she was fond of the kid.  I approved mainly because Lorna amused the shit out of me pretty much all the time and Jesus did I need that these days.

Nicky saw me come out of the back and gave me a grin, “Hey there, Tiger,” she said, “How you holdin’ up?”

I sat down next to her heavily, “Great. I’m amazing.” Lorna slid a glass of water in front of me and I took a grateful gulp.

Nicky looked at her, “Hey, babe, can you tell Sergei to get that plate ready for Alex… the one I told him about earlier?  And maybe some coffee?"

Lorna nodded, “Sure,” she disappeared into the back. 

Nicky patted my back gently, an uncharacteristically tender move from her, “How are you really?”

“About like I have been since I got back from shit town, Nick.”

“At least you’re above ground and not in jail.  Plus, Red’s so grateful to you for getting rid of Kubra, she’s talking about making you a member of the family even if you do want to keep your shitty ass job.”

“Hmmph.”

Nicky sighed, “It’ll get better you know, Alex,” she said sincerely… God she was using my first name a lot these days, “It really will. You just gotta give it time… You know what they say about it healing all wounds…”

I slid my gaze sideways, remaining slumped over the bar. “You’ll forgive me if I think that sounds like bullshit…”

She sighed, lighting a couple cigarettes and handing me one.  “Yeah… yeah,  I know…”

***

I stayed there for another hour or so, eating a plate of Russian hangover food, alternating glasses of water with cups of coffee, and listening to Morello and Nicky talk about nothing that was of any consequence to me.  I let my mind drift, and tried not to think about anything. After a bit I started feeling aware enough that I knew I needed to change clothes before the ones I was wearing took themselves off and walked away in disgust.

Nicky drove me back to my office, gave me a gruff side hug and told me to call her later to let me know how I was.  I gave her a hangdog nod and a half smile as wandered up the stairs to my office.

I unlocked the door and pushed it open.  There was a small pile of mail on the other side of the door.  I picked it up and dumped it on the side table next to the couch as I went to the suitcase I’d been living out of and pulled out what appeared to be my last clean pair of pants and one of my last clean shirts.  I’d have to ask Nicky if I could use the washing machine at her place again.  I wasn’t exactly conducting business on a regular basis, but I figured it would be best if I didn’t smell like the bottom of a bottle of rye _all_ the time. 

I put on the clean clothes, and ran a glass of water from the tap before grabbing up the mail from the side table and taking it into my inner office to read it.  Looking through the mail at my desk was about the only thing that made me feel like I _had_ a job these days. The first two envelopes were bills… the third one…

The third one was a plain white envelope with my office address typewritten on it.  There was no return address and no stamp... which gave me pause because it meant that it had been pushed through my mail slot by someone other than a postman.  Frowning, I slid it open with my letter opener.  There were two things inside.

One was a plain white rectangular card with a single sentence typewritten in the center:

_I haven’t forgotten._

I sucked in a sharp breath and when I exhaled, her name fell from my lips unbidden, “ _Piper…_ ”  I stared at the card intently for a long time, as though I could conjure her up just by concentrating hard enough. Finally, I laid it carefully on my desk and pulled out the other piece of paper.

It was a train ticket. I tried to keep my idiot hands from shaking is I held it up to examine it more closely.  It was from Los Angeles to San Diego. And the date on it was July 6th which was... tomorrow… 

Well…

…shit.


	16. Epilogue Part II - The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Alex takes a trip

Nicky was predictably skeptical about the whole thing.  After I’d spent about an hour staring at the ticket and the note and turning everything over in my head, pinballing through pretty much every emotion I’d felt since I’d first laid eyes on Piper across that fucking hick town street, I called her at Red’s and told her I needed to talk to her.  I hopped a cab to her place, and now we were sitting on her deck, looking out over the ocean as we talked. 

I told her what had happened and she stared at the note and the ticket for a good five minutes before she looked up at me,   “You’re gonna go?” she asked, although her tone told me she already knew what I was going to say.

“I have to.”

“You haven’t considered the possibility this could be a trap or something?  Kubra’s gone, but you and I both know that fucker has a long memory… and that his specialty is revenge.  Deep.  Sick. Revenge.”

I frowned, shuddering slightly at her words, “No.  I hadn’t considered that,” I muttered.

“And that’s what worries me …” Nicky looked me in the eye, dead serious, “You’re one of the least trusting people I know.  Somethin’ like this woulda set off all your fuckin’ alarms a month ago.  Hell, if it didn’t involve Blondie, it _would_ be setting off all your fuckin’ alarms…  This dame is your Achilles fuckin’ heel, Vause… and it ain’t like you’re makin’ much of a secret of it.  Anyone wanted to get at you…” she trailed off, and I could see the real concern in her face, which just made me feel like a heel…

I turned what she was saying over in my head.  She was right.  It could be… but… somehow I just knew that it wasn’t a trap.  I _knew_ it deep down.  I was pretty sure that if I said anything like that to Nicky, though, she’d call up the looney bin and have them come and cart me off.  “It’s not Kubra.  It’s her,” I said with conviction.  She opened her mouth to speak and I put my hand up, stopping her, “And before you even start, there’s no fucking way she’s working for that bastard.  Not after what Mendez did…"

Nicky sighed, long suffering, and leaned back in her chair, running a her hand over her face.  “You knew her for a _day_ , Vause.  And half that time she was actin’ in a way that would make any _neutral outside observer_ ,” she gestured to herself, “think she was usin’ you and fully intended to fuck you over and leave you,” I actually winced as she spoke, each word felt like a blow.  Even if I was _pretty sure_ I didn’t believe it.  She saw me shrinking in my seat and when she spoke again, her tone was softer, “Why do you want to put yourself through that again?”

I stared at my hands.  “You think I haven’t thought about all that?  That I haven’t _been_ thinking of all that pretty much every fucking minute I’ve been sober for the last three weeks?   I’ve run through all of it, Nicky, every single second.  Good and bad.  And yeah, I guess you’re right.  The whole thing makes me look like a fucking idiot…”

“Alex," she muttered, "I never said you were an idiot…”

I continued like she hadn’t spoken, “But no matter how many ways I look at it, and no matter how bad it all seems, and believe me, there are times it seems pretty fuckin’ bad… I can’t stop coming back to one thing: she could’ve just _left_ …”

Her brow furrowed.  For once in our lives, we were both completely serious, not an ounce of bullshit on us. “What d’ya mean?”

I took a long drag on my cigarette, “At Mars’s brother’s house.  After I got shot…”

“Which time?” she asked wryly.

Well, maybe not _completely_ serious...  I rolled me eyes and gave her half a smirk, “The _last_ time, you asshole…”  my smirk fell as I thought back, staring out at the ocean as I spoke, “Aydin was knocked out, Mendez and Mars were dead.  I was unconscious and halfway to my final destination.  Mars’s half of the money was there.  Her half of the money was there.  She could’ve hopped in Eddie’s car and driven away as fast as she could the second she smashed Aydin over the head with that ugly ass lamp.  It would’ve been the smartest way to go especially for someone as... calculating as her.  She would’ve cut her risk of running into Kubra’s guys or the cops to almost nothing… could’ve been free and clear before anyone even knew she’d been there...”  I looked back over at Nicky intently, my voice becoming insistent… I _needed_ her to understand, “But she _didn’t_.  She stuck around.  She _saved my fucking life_.  And then she waited for me to wake up before she even thought about leaving… I mean, she didn’t wait very _patiently_ ," I chuckled, "but she _waited_ …”

Nicky thought about that.  I’d told her the story before, but never come at her with that angle.  I’d kept it to broad strokes before.  Too much detail and the tightness started to build in my chest again… like it was now.  Finally, she shrugged, “Yeah, I guess so,” she conceded, “But then as soon as the cops showed up and shit got real…”

“She knew they’d want to take her back to LA.”

“You’re makin’ excuses for her, Vause,” Nicky sounded frustrated.

“Don’t think I wasn’t pissed off about _that_ , Nick.  Part of me is still pretty fucking angry about that… but… I get it, y’know?”

The look in her eyes said she didn’t _really_ know, “I dunno, man…”

“She didn’t have to do this either, you know,” I held up the card.

“Maybe she’s in trouble.  Maybe she’s got herself in the shit again and that’s the only reason she’s comin’ cryin’ back to you now is so you'll go runnin' to help her..."

I shrugged, “If she’s in trouble I _want_ to help her.”

“I just don’t wanna see you hurt, Alex…” Nicky said seriously, “She’s turned you into a mess and I don’t wanna see that get worse.”

“Without her I’m not sure how much better it’s gonna get…”  I sighed.

“It’s not gonna be like this forever… she shouldn’t get another chance to break your heart…” she said quietly.

I let that sink in for a long moment. “Look, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.  And Jesus, Nick, it’s not like things are going so fucking well for me here.  I’m living off Holly’s check, but after that, I’ve got nothing.  It’s back to taking dirty pictures for sweaty husbands.  That was fine before I knew there was anything else out there for me, y’know...? But now...”

Nicky shook her head ruefully, “Jesus, she fucked you up.” 

“I know... I know what it sounds like.  But if I stay here all I’m gonna do is keep brooding and making you feel sad for me…”

“Well you’re a grown up," she said, shrugging, "and I ain’t gonna stop you if this is what you really want.  But be careful. And know that I’m here for ya, no matter what.”

I nodded, “I know.  You’re the best friend a heartbroken asshole could ask for.”

“I’m aware…  And I’m way too fuckin’ understanding…” she looked at her watch, “Fuck… I’ve got a run to make,” she stood up, tucking in the end of her shirt and smoothing out her skirt.  I unfolded myself from my chair.  As soon as I was standing upright, she surprised the shit out of me by pulling me into a bear hug, “Just don’t forget about me, right?”

I felt my eyes start to sting (some fucking sand must’ve gotten in my eye or something) and I blinked rapidly as I hugged her back, “Couldn’t even if I wanted to…”

***

When I got back to my office, I put in a call to Caputo down at HQ.  I told him I was going out of town, that I needed a vacation after all that had happened, and that I was finally healed up enough to do it.  He was surprised because I hadn’t been on a vacation since he and my ma had taken me out to Catalina Island when I was 15.  I told him I figured I might as well make Holly’s money useful while I had it.  He seemed to accept that and told me to let him know when I got back.  He rang off with a gruff, “Love ya, kid.”

I felt like a giant fucking jackass for lying to him, but if I'd told him the truth he would've turned into a cop and interrogated me about the details.  I’d considered not calling him at all, but I couldn’t do that to him.  And besides, if I'd just disappeared, he would've sent search parties out eventually.

Anyway, I had no idea what was going to happen. It could be this was all bullshit and she’d just break my heart again. However, if this turned out to be for real, if it really was Piper, I would call him and let him know where I was eventually.  He’d still be pretty sore, but at least he wouldn’t be able to find me. 

***         

The ticket was for a private compartment.  It wasn’t exactly first class lap of luxury, but I had the space to myself.  About an hour into the journey, a valet came with a message for me.  It was another envelope with my name typed on it.  Inside was another plain  white card.  This one just had an address typed on it.  I frowned.  Laying out breadcrumbs for the detective… I almost laughed at the irony of that situation. 

When I got to San Diego it was nearly 6pm.  I got off the train, suitcase in hand, and wondered whether I should go find a hotel room or something.  I shook my head.  Fuck it.  I’d come this far on a whim.  Might as well not waste any time.  Besides, if this was a trap, I’d much rather get things over with.

I caught a cab and gave the driver the address from the card.  He dropped me off in front of a classy looking restaurant on the beach.  I stepped out of the cab.  I had no idea what the hell to expect at this point and I wondered if maybe I was wrong and the universe wasn’t just pulling a giant fucking joke on me.  It’s not like her name had actually _been_ on any of the shit I’d been sent.

The restaurant was Italian, about half full, lots of low lighting and couples in sitting around gazing longingly at one another over plates of overpriced pasta.  When I walked in, the maître’d took one look at me and smiled so broadly I thought the top of his head might slide off… which seemed a little odd considering this place was clearly formal and I was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a leather jacket.  The only thing "fancy" about me was that my shirt buttoned up.

I’d been riding in a train for the better part of a day and I looked it, my hair mussed and my clothes rumpled.  The cuts on my face were weren't bandaged anymore but were still clearly visible, and I was carrying a suitcase in my left hand like a hobo.  Joints like this weren't generally ecstatic when someone like me walked through the door.

In an ostentatiously formal and pretentious fancy little shit voice the waiter said, “You are Miss Vause?”

I raised an eyebrow, a little unnerved he knew who I was, “Uhhh… yeah?”   _Oooo... eloquent, dumbass..._

“Welcome.  Please follow me,” without waiting for acknowledgment, he turned and started walking.  Still puzzled, I followed him, weaving through tables and garnering a few less than flattering stares.  He led me to  door just off the main dining room.  It had a small brass “reserved” plaque mounted on it.  He opened the door and made a sweeping gesture.

I stepped into the room and he closed the door behind me.  It was a small, private room.  It looked like it could accommodate a dozen or so people, but only one table was made up: fresh white linens, candle in the center, the whole nine.  There were large bay windows that offered a fucking amazing view of the water and the last lingering remnant of a beautiful sunset.  The windows were open wide and the warm summer breeze was wafting in gently.  The lighting was as atmospheric in here as it was in the main dining room.

It was all fucking lovely… but I barely registered any of it because, standing next to the table, looking out over the ocean, arms loose at her sides, was Piper Chapman.  My suitcase fell from my hand and thumped to the floor and for a minute I was pretty sure I actually went weak in the knees and almost fell down…  I had been planning on being pissed off at her, to vent my anger at her for leaving, for making me into a pathetic drunk...  But the second I laid eyes on her, all those thoughts were drowned out and I was overwhelmed by how fucking happy I was that she was here... right in front of me...

“ _Fuck me_ …” I breathed. 

I heard her let out what sounded very much like a relieved sigh, “Always so articulate, Miss Vause," her voice was as beautiful as I remembered it, and full to the brim with emotion. She turned around, giving me a knowing look, “I’m paying a rather large quantity of money to this establishment but I really don’t think they’d appreciate us doing _that_ in one of their private dining rooms…”

She was wearing a simple blue dress that brought out the color in her eyes, and she was so achingly beautiful framed against the sunset that I nearly stopped breathing.  The bruises on her face had healed and for the first time since I’d met her, she looked every bit as young as she was, as though getting away had physically lifted a two ton weight off of her.  Her smile when she saw me was the one that looked like it was made out of fucking sunshine, and the force of it nearly knocked me over.

I was frozen to the spot, just staring at her like she was a mirage that was going to disappear if I moved or blinked or said anything else.  She crossed the room towards me with long strides.  She stopped just short of me, so close that on the next breath I inhaled her scent… she smelled like the sun and the ocean breeze and that obscenely expensive floral perfume she’d been wearing when she first slid into the seat next to me at that piece of shit bar.  Her eyes were wide and shining as they examined me, taking me all in, like she couldn't believe I was here either.  The stress and exhaustion that had seemed to hover around their edges when we’d first met was gone, as were all the shadows that seemed to hide behind them.  There were tears hovering there, and before I could say or do anything, she’d thrown her arms around my neck.

As soon as she touched me, I reacted on instinct, putting my arms around her and pulling her close.  For a long moment, we just held one another, her head in the crook of my neck.  Both of us just basking in the fact that we were here, holding each other, as safe as we could be.

Then she pulled away slightly and pressed her lips to mine.  It didn’t take long for the kiss to become more heated, both of us reacquainting ourselves with the territory as our hands wandered.  Mine slid down her back before moving up again to the back of her neck where I tangled my fingers in her hair.  God I’d missed this...

When we finally came up for air, she leaned her forehead against mine and took a deep breath, “I was serious earlier…” she said breathily, “I paid them a lot for this room, enough that they won’t mind a little light necking… but they have their limits…”

My hand was quite firmly on her ass at this point, and I grinned, “I’m just… I’m glad to see you…”

“I can tell…” she pressed another kiss to my lips before releasing her hold on my neck and moving to take my hand, “…but we probably need to talk… and the food at this place really is incredible.”

I sighed, nodding, “Yeah… food…”

I wanted to ask her questions. About everything. But it was like my brain had short circuited when I saw her.  I didn't want to fuck things up,  not when she was so beautiful and the setting was like something out of some epic fucking romance.  Besides now that I was with her I could believe we might actually have all the time in the world.

***

The food really was  fucking amazing.  And she'd paid them enough that they really didn’t seem to give two shits about two “lady friends” holding hands and acting like a couple of lovestruck teenagers.  When I pressed her about just how much it had cost her, she'd raised an eyebrow, and said, “I can afford it.”

We got through the whole three course meal, an hour of just staring at each other all cow eyed, and marveling at being in one another’s presence again, before my stupid ass investigator brain emerged from hibernation and started begging me to ask questions.  I really didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I kept smacking it and telling it to shut the fuck up.

She had shifted her chair so that we were sitting next to one another facing the ocean.  She was leaning into my right side with my left arm draped comfortably over her shoulders.  My left hand was resting on her upper arm, drawing random patterns there lightly.  She had my poor tortured right hand in both of hers, just as she had the night we’d spent together.  I half smiled when she’d started that up again.  She _really_ appreciated my hands… 

“So,” she said, “go ahead and ask.”

I frowned, “What?”

“You have questions you want answered.  You’ve been trying to keep from asking them for the past 15 minutes because you don’t want to _ruin the moment_.”

I laughed, “Reading people is supposed to me my thing, Pipes,” the name fell out of my mouth before I could stop it.  I almost winced, thinking a classy dame like her wouldn’t want anything to do with something as "uncouth" as a fucking nickname.

But she just smiled a pleased as fuck smile at me again and said, “No offense, _Al_ , but you’re not that hard for me to read.”

I smirked, “All right,” I said, taking a sip of my third glass of the excellent and extremely expensive wine, “I need to know how you pulled this shit off, Piper…”

“You’re going to need to be more specific, babe,” she said, sounding extremely pleased with herself.

“Let’s start with the train ticket mystery game, you smug little shit…” I said fondly.

“Cal.  I called one of his surfer friends and he called me back from their place.  By that time father had much more pressing concerns than me, but I didn’t want to take risks by calling the house if I didn’t have to.  I told Cal to write the note and buy the ticket.  He delivered it himself

“How’d he pay for it?”

“Oh he has access to his trust fund, but the ticket he paid for out of the thousand dollars I left him.”

My eyebrows jumped up, “What?”

“I rented a storage garage in Venice Beach in January.  It’s where I had been keeping the money before I ran.  I left the key in Cal’s… porn drawer,” she grimaced and rolled her eyes,  “He evidently got so distracted when he found the diary he didn’t even notice it until I called him and told him about it.”

“If he has a trust fund then why bother giving him money?”

“Cal’s the only person I really care about…” she glanced over at me, smiled softly, “well, he isn’t the only one _now_ , but he was then.  And I felt truly awful about leaving him alone.  I just wanted to make sure he knew that I cared.  The money was my way of trying to show him that.”

“And he was willing to do all that stuff?”

“Cal was quite happy to do what he needed in order to help. Our father has done nothing to endear himself to either of us.  And also, he seemed to like you very much.  Said you had nice legs and a killer rack,” she looked over at me and raised an eyebrow, “I can’t say I disagree…”

“Apparently the Chapman siblings have similar taste,” I said.

“Mmhmm,” she said, leaning over to kiss me. “As for the note on the train, I had Cal give it to the one of the valets before the train left the station.”

“He was there?” I was astonished.

“He doesn’t seem like he’d be inconspicuous, I know, but keep in mind, we’ve been sneaking around for years.”

“What about the papers?  The ones about Kubra and your father.”

Her eyes darkened for the first time since I’d walk in, “I’d been slowly removing papers from father’s files since January.  Never too many at once, and only one or two from each file… all I needed was enough to ensure that the police and the DA would be forced to act on the information. Once they raided the house they’d get everything else. The ledgers I got from Larry.  He’d been making two sets from the beginning.  It was how he’d kept things hidden from Kubra… at least until the little pinhead got too greedy…”

She sighed, trying to calm herself down, “The files were in the storage locker.  I just had Cal get a messenger to take them to police headquarters..."

I frowned, out at the ocean. I was dreading this next question, “Why did you wait three weeks…?”

She sighed and brought my hand up to kiss it gently, “Leaving you like that was the hardest thing I had to do, Alex.  I didn’t want to, but if I’d let the police get a hold of me, even your friend Caputo…”

I sighed, “Yeah I know…”

“I drove South, crossed the border here in San Diego.  I rented a cabana in a little beach town about 20 miles down the coast, and I settled in.  I couldn’t do anything until I was absolutely certain that father and Kubra were no longer a problem, or at least that they were so distracted by everything else that they couldn’t be bothered with thinking about me anymore. I called Cal and then waited. I spent most of my time reading, worrying, and drinking margaritas, trying to keep myself from calling you…”

She held up her right hand, and as I focused on it I saw healed over cuts and some bruising there.  I hadn’t noticed before because the dim lighting and my own distraction.  My brows knit together, “The _fuck_ Piper… did someone…”

“No.  I got upset… and when I’m upset I can get a little… temperamental… So I may have hit a wall…”

“A wall…?”

“…or two.  I was _very_ distressed,” she waved it away, and continued before I could do anything but raise my eyebrow in skeptical amusement, “As soon as Cal called and indicated father was thoroughly swept up in the investigation, I told him to wait another week, just to ensure all was well, and then give you the ticket.  I wanted very much to contact you sooner but…”

My expression sobered as I considered this.  “Okay…”  I said, finally, pulling her closer, “I guess that makes sense…”

She sighed, thankful for my acceptance of her explanation.  When she spoke again, her voice was uncharacteristically tentative.  “The little town I’m in now is nice enough… but I was intending to move on soon.  I’m still far too close to my father for my taste…  But I couldn’t go without seeing you again…”

“Just ‘seeing’ me?”

“It seemed presumptuous to assume anything more,” she said quietly, looking down at the table where our hands were still tangled together.  My calloused, bandaged right hand was in her flawless left.  “I didn’t even know if you would come.  I thought you might tear up the ticket as soon as you saw it. I thought…” her voice hitched, “I thought you might hate me… that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me… after the way I left…”

I shifted slightly, bringing my left hand around, I cupped her chin gently and raised her face so she was looking at me, “I wouldn’t have bothered coming if I didn’t want you, Piper…”

Something like relief flooded her eyes.

“And I don’t hate you,” I said quietly, “I love you.”

She gave me that fucking smile again and I felt my stupid dumbass heart melt a little more.  “I love you too,” she said.

“You said you just _thought_ you loved me…”

“I’ve spent these last three weeks drinking a bottle of tequila a day and punching walls because you weren't here… I’m pretty _fucking_ sure I love you…”

“I love it when you talk dirty…” I said, grinning.

“I know…” she said breathily.  Then she leaned up and kissed me.  It was the sort of kiss that meant business and probably would’ve turned into something very inappropriate if the door hadn’t opened about a minute later (just as she was crawling over to straddle my lap… God damn it).  The waiter cleared his throat and I sighed.

“Fuuuuck…” I groaned, frustrated, extracting my hand from her hair.

“Oh _we will_ , darling…” she whispered right next to my ear, and when she pulled back she gave me that same wicked grin she’d given me back in that bar in Lake Town, the one that was full of promises.  She stood, smoothing her dress, and went to speak to the waiter, probably about closing out the bill.  I took a few deep, cleansing breaths, trying to calm myself down.

She sat back down next to me after a moment and half smiled, “He seemed flustered,” she said.

“Can’t imagine why…” I replied as she settled down next to me again. I pulled her close.

“So,” I said after a long moment of comfortable silence, “now that you’ve got me, where are we going, kid?”

“Anywhere $50,000 of Kubra Balik’s money can take us… I’m thinking we’ll start with Paris…”

I grinned, “I hear it’s nice this time of year…”

She leaned up and kissed me again.  Then she burrowed even closer to me.  I squeezed her shoulder and sighed, fully content for the first time in a long fucking time… maybe the first time ever.

Somehow I knew that no matter what happened from here, no matter where we ended up, it would be all right as long as we were together.  And yeah, it sounded like a ridiculous Hollywood bullshit cliché, but fuck it… I was in love…


End file.
